


Fill Your Heart Without Trying

by Kellyscams



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Anal Fingering, Animal Transformation, Awkward Flirting, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, First Dates, Forgiveness, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Jealous Steve Rogers, M/M, Magic, Magical Accidents, Magical Realism, Marriage Proposal, Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Protective Natasha Romanov, Rating May Change, Sex, Shy Bucky Barnes, Spells & Enchantments, Teasing, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-07-28 11:26:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 38,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16240652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellyscams/pseuds/Kellyscams
Summary: Steve Rogers is a caster with one very big problem.He's accidentally turned himself into a puppy.When trying to cross the scary, busy street to get to Wanda Maximoff's Shoppe of Witchcraft to reverse this spell and get himself back to normal, Steve's picked up by someone trying to do a good deed and rescue a few pounds of pathetic puppy. Instead of getting to Wanda's place, Steve goes home with Bucky Barnes--his adorably shy rescuer.Unfortunately, Bucky doesn't come off as terribly talented with magic and Steve has a feeling he might have to go to extremes to get someone to notice that he'snota normal puppy. Then again, maybe Steve's not the only one around here who's not what he seems.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lostromanianpuppy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostromanianpuppy/gifts).
  * Inspired by [义无反顾](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18097358) by [Sovakieee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sovakieee/pseuds/Sovakieee). 



> Just a little something for October and Halloween.   
> It's nearly done being written and will be all posted by October 31st :)

Steve trips again. 

He trips and curses his life and tries to right himself only to trip once more. Really, if he could, he’d punch the sadistic bastard who came up with the idea to put a bundle of too much fur on top of tiny paws.

Tumbling over puppy paws again, Steve would cry if he wasn’t so stubborn. 

This is his own fault, honestly. He shouldn’t’ve been messing around with someone else’s Book of Shadows. Especially when he didn’t even know who it belonged to. To be fair, he had only been trying to figure out _who_ it belonged to. He hadn’t meant to read a page. As a caster, Steve’s magic relies on pushing spells and incantations _away_ from his body. He’s particularly good at protection spells-- shields and wards and even counter defenses. It’s what made him so useful in the war.

Spells that bring magic and energy inward? Clearly, not his forte or he wouldn’t be running around the streets of Brooklyn as a golden retriever puppy right now. At least, he thinks that’s what he is. Steve stops running for a second and checks his reflection in a nearby store window. Yep. Golden retriever. Steve sighs. It comes out as a little puppy sneeze. 

Steve zigzags between walls of legs, trying his hardest not to get noticed while also avoiding getting stepped on by sharp heels and sneakers. All he needs to do is get to Wanda. Her shop of Witchcraft and Mysticism must have something in it that will fix this. If not, she’s a strong enough witch that she’ll figure something out. Steve’s sure of it. 

Course, that _might_ include involving Tony and his magitech and then Steve will _never_ hear the end of this. Ever. From anyone, why the hell did he ...oh, is that a _squirrel_?!

It smells like one--why Steve knows _that_ he’s not sure--and it looks like one and now his one and only goal is to _catch that damn squirrel_. He's gotta. He has to. No squirrel is a match for him. No squirrel is allowed on _his_ sidewalk! He'll show that damn squirrel who's boss. Even when it dashes up a tree and he tries to convince it to get back down here. 

_‘Get down here!’_ Steve yells. Barks. He… barks. _‘Come down here, now!’_

No, wait. What is he doing? He’s supposed to be getting to Wanda’s, not chasing after squirrels. Also, he’s itchy. Right behind his ear. How the hell is he supposed to reach that? Steve gives it a shot with his front paw before realizing he’s seen it done a million times. 

Turns out, it’s not so easy. Steve plops down on his butt, tries reaching over but ends up falling onto his side before he comes even close. Which is completely ridiculous. Steve was a Captain in the Army, honorably discharged right after the end of the war against Hydra. It shouldn’t be _this_ hard just to scratch behind his ear. It takes him another three tries to finally get it and when he does, most of his puppy fat falls in front of his face and this time he falls forward. 

Sure, he’s spent the past three years trying to make a new life for himself, but this is just ridiculous. Not exactly what he’s had in mind.

After a long, grueling trip through the park and down one long city block, Steve finally reaches the corner. He stays off to the side though. Tries to keep out of sight. Most people don’t notice him. A few do. One or two take a glance like they’re confused by the little puppy hanging out all by himself, but they keep on going. Two kids holding their parents’ hands smile and reach for him. Luckily, they don’t stop. 

Water would be fantastic. It’s so damn hot out. Steve doesn’t realize he’s panting until he sees drops of drool at his paws. Oh, this really sucks. Steve rolls his tongue back in and looks up at the street signs. Okay, yes, perfect. He’s headed the right way. He’s just gotta get across the street. 

Which, well, it might be a little more difficult than normal, but he can do it. Cross at the green, not in between. Shouldn’t be too hard. Only doing this in the crosswalk probably isn’t the wisest decision if he wants to keep away from people, so Steve figures it might be best to just get across as quickly as possible. 

Unfortunately, when he gets to the edge of the curb, it’s a hell of a lot higher than it’s ever looked before. Steve steps forward and gauges the height. If he can just get off the sidewalk and into the street, then he can just cross it. Probably. It’s just… actually… a little scary… 

He inches closer. Puts one paw out in front of him and backs away again before placing it down since the second he tries Steve’s completely sure he’s going to fall off the face of the earth. Which is totally ridiculous, what is wrong with him? 

_Okay, Steve. Think about this rationally. You’re_ not _really a puppy. You’re a man. A fully grown man. A caster. You were in the army. You went toe-to-toe with the most powerful magic in the world during the war. You can step off the curb and not be swallowed by the earth because there’s no such thing as being swallowed by the earth._

Once again, Steve gets closer to the edge of the curb. He glances down at the pavement and _really_ hates how high he is, but if anyone hears about this somehow, he’ll never live it down. Oh, man, if Sam finds out _Steve Rogers_ was afraid of stepping off a curb when the man himself can sprout beautiful red wings and fly and talk to birds? No. No, he’s gotta do this.

Letting out a tiny whimper, Steve just goes for it. His two paws slip off the edge and at the very last second he changes his mind and he wants to _bail, bail, bail_ but it’s too late, no backing out of this now. Steve falls forward. He flips once and lands with his butt on the ground and smiles proudly, his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth.

_Well_ , he thinks, _that wasn’t so bad, was it_?

Although, now that he gets a really good look at how far the other sidewalk is, Steve thinks he might not’ve thought this entire plan through so well. It’s miles and miles away. Even if Steve does cross with the traffic, he’s not so sure if he’d make it in time. 

Not to mention the fact that those big ass cars are making a hell of a lot of noise. Since when were cars so loud? Why did they have to honk so much? And those _engines_. They’re so mean. 

Steve backs away as a car rolls to a stop near him. He doesn’t like it. At all. All the fur on the back of Steve’s neck stands up as a tiny, puppy growl rumbles through his belly. 

He’s just about to bark, just about to tell this mean ol, nasty car to go away and never come back here again when he’s suddenly being lifted into the air. Fast. Steve yips and tries to yell, but is cradled up against something warm and comfortable. 

“Hey there, little guy,” someone says. “What’re you doing out here?”

Steve looks up into the steel-blue eyes of the most adorable guy he’s ever seen. A big, warm-hearted smile pulls up on his lips as the guy holds him carefully in his arms--one made of flesh, the other metal--while also looking around as though searching for someone who might be missing him. 

“S’not safe for you in the road, buddy,” he says. “You might get hit by a car. You belong to anyone?” He looks for a collar and, upon finding none, shrugs. “Well, I guess I can’t leave you here, huh? I’m Bucky. I’ll take you home and see if we can find where you belong.”

_‘No, no, wait,’_ Steve barks. _‘Uh…’_ What’d he says his name was?‘ _Bucky! Wait, try to pay attention. I’m not a_ dog _, I’m a person! You gotta take me--’_

“You’re a yappy little guy, aren’t ya?” Bucky laughs. “You’re gonna have to keep it down at my place. Dunno if I’m actually allowed to bring a pet into the apartment or not. But we’ll keep it our little secret, yeah?”

_‘Ugh, no. You’re not listening!’_

Nope. Not even close to listening. Bucky just takes another quick glimpse around before fixing the black hat over his head and adjusting the straps of his backpack so that they're no longer making his red Henley bunch up. Almost looks like the guy is trying to hide without looking like he’s trying to hide. Steve gets the sudden urge to project a shield out for him. Keep him hidden in plain sight. 

Strange, that. The sudden need to keep this man hidden even though Steve has no idea if that’s what Bucky’s goal is or not. Though, there’s something oddly familiar about Bucky. Like Steve _should_ know who he is even though he’s perfectly aware they’ve never met before. 

Obviously, this Bucky character doesn’t possess any magical talent. Or, if he does, isn’t very good with it. The whole way back to his place--which he now elects to walk to instead of taking any public transportation since he’s picked up a new puppy companion--he never once picks up on the fact that his animal friend is not an animal at all. Any talented magic user would’ve noticed. 

Well, okay, maybe that’s not fair of Steve. He is rather cranky. Probably the whole, accidentally turning himself into a puppy thing. 

When they get to Bucky’s place, the first thing Steve notices are the wards the guy’s got set up. Some pretty strong ones at that. Like whatever he’s trying to keep out is something or someone specific. Steve, after being set down on hardwood floors, gives a test to them. Finds them not exactly personal--probably store bought--but still fine-tuned. Expensive, then. Top of the line protection. Bucky’s at least skilled enough to mess around with pre-made wards to set them to how he wants them. 

While Bucky sits on his sofa, opening his laptop to apparently search if anyone in the area is missing a puppy, Steve takes a look around. 

It’s a small place. One bedroom. Living room connected to the eat-in-kitchen. Cute. Rundown, but clearly meets the guy’s needs. There isn’t much by means of personal effects. The bare minimum, really. Looks like he’s got just what he needs to survive. In fact, the state of the art technology is actually somewhat surprising given the rest of the stuff.

The nice laptop and the phone beside it stick out on the crummy old coffee table in front of the shabby couch. 

Steve follows his nose under the kitchen table. There, he finds crumbs and excitedly licks them up before even considering that not only is he licking up crumbs, but he’s licking up crumbs from someone’s kitchen floor. He slumps over, his head squished under the leg of the table and somehow still comfortable. 

“Welp,” Bucky announces when he enters the room, bending down to talk directly to Steve. “Doesn’t look like anyone is missing you. Not that I can see anyway. I put a bulletin up that I got you, just in case.”

_‘No such luck, guy,’_ Steve mutters. ‘ _No one’s looking for me. Well, maybe a six foot, blonde, blue-eyed, clumsy caster, but they ain’t gonna be answering to that bulletin_.’ 

“Fuck, you’re cute,” he says. “Guess I’m stuck with you for now, hm? Not such a bad thing though. I could use a friend.”

He reaches under the table to pet the top of Steve’s head and Steve’s first instinct is to retreat. No _way_ is he going to suffer that. He doesn’t even know this guy. Hardwood floors, as it turns out, aren’t so easy for a quick getaway. Not with claws and padded paws. Steve slips and falls all over himself, and much to his chagrin, Bucky laughs before petting a hand over his head. 

About to reach back and chomp down with his fierce, mighty jaw--piercing into this guy’s hand with the sharpest fangs in existence--Steve opens his mouth and gets fingers onto them. Only before he can close these choppers around those fingers, Bucky scratches right behind his ear. 

Right. Okay, that’s not… so bad. Yes. Yes, okay, keep doing that. Right there. Yes. Yes, yes, yes. More of that. 

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” Bucky asks with a very clear and present smile in his voice. “Belly rubs for the puppy.” 

Belly rubs? What?

Steve lifts his head and realizes he has, indeed, rolled onto his back and now Bucky’s fingers are rubbing into his belly. Oh, this is so fucking mortifying, but Steve doesn’t have it in him to move away. Especially when those magical fingers hit some crazy spot that makes Steve’s mind go blank and leg start kicking as though his life completely depends on it. 

“Could you be any cuter?”

_I don’t know, just don’t stop doing that._

“Okay. I think you need a name.”

Quickly sitting up again, Steve shakes his head out, fur flying away from him. 

_‘No, no. I_ have _a name. It’s_ Steve _,’_ he barks. _‘I’m not really a puppy, okay? I’m a_ person _. And I really,_ really _, need you to try to understand me right now. You_ have _to get in touch with Wanda Maximoff, she’ll know what to do.’_

“You’re awfully bossy.” 

All Bucky’s doing is smiling at him. Adorably, too. He’s flat on his belly, chin in his metal hand. He could use a shave. And a haircut. 

_‘Ugh, c’mon, man._ ’ Steve nibbles on the fingers that Bucky tries to pet him with this time. _‘You gotta listen to me. At least_ try _.’_

Like earlier, Steve’s struck with some odd sense of recognition, but he just can’t put his finger--or paw--on why. Bucky just _really_ looks like someone he knows. Or should know. Or something like that. 

“You like being in charge, huh?” Bucky shakes his head. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised that someone _else_ wants to hand out orders. I don’t mind. Even after everything. As long as it’s _you_ this time.”

Steve gives a desperate puppy whine, charging forward in an attempt to make Bucky pay attention to him. All this does is get a nose collision. Wet to dry. Bucky falls over with a laugh, picking Steve up and putting him on his chest as he does. 

“Puppy needs to be in charge.” Bucky laughs. “Okay then. How about Captain? You like that?”

That actually makes Steve laugh, inadvertently also causing his tail to wag. A very strange sensation indeed. He tries to stop it, even turns in circles to grab it with his mouth but no matter how hard he chases it the damn thing won't sit still. All Steve's valiant efforts get him are him sliding off Bucky's chest and landing with a fluffy thud back on the floor. 

Rolling back onto his stomach, Bucky rests his temple over folded arms and chuckles. 

“Is that a yes?”

Well, if he’s gotta be called something other than his name, Captain isn’t so bad. Fits, too. Steve _was_ a captain in the army. His unit--the Howling Commandos--used to call him Cap and everything. Though each of them had their own special set of skills, Steve was the only magic user among them. It was Steve’s skill with shields and their ability to work together that made the Howlies the go-to team some of the toughest, most secret missions during the fight against Hydra. Steve’s even got a medal of honor at home. It’s tossed in a drawer. Steve never feels much honor looking at it, given the reasons he got it and all.

“Captain it is,” Bucky says as he stands up again. “I wonder if I should take you to the vet or something.”

Oh, no, please. Please, no vets. That’s the last thing Steve needs. Unless the vet is able to tell the difference between puppies and puppies that are people who’ve just accidentally turned themselves into puppies. Then maybe it’s a good idea. 

Over at the sink, Bucky’s filling up a bowl with water. He’s still talking to himself about the vet, but it’s mostly to himself. Well, technically it’s all been to himself. The poor guy has no idea none of this isn’t actually being said in confidence. 

A pang of guilt hits Steve right in the chest. So far, Bucky’s been nothing but hospitable. Sweet and kind if not rough around the edges. The type of person who rescues stray puppies from the clutches of evil cars getting ready to attack them. And all Steve’s done so far is gripe and complain. True, it’s because he’s spent most of the day as a puppy, but he could afford to be a little more gracious. 

Not that any of that matters since the very second Bucky puts that bowl down, Steve realizes it’s a bowl of water and it’s just gotta be meant for him. He takes off for it and must look like some sort of cartoon running in place since his paws gather no traction on the floor the first few attempts. 

When he finally does get over to the bowl, Steve damn near dives into it. Head first. It takes a second to figure out how he’s supposed to drink anything, but then he just sticks his tongue into the bowl and it’s amazingly incredible that he’s able to just sort of toss the water right into his mouth so he can slurp it all down. 

Not only that but suddenly water’s become the most fascinating thing in the world. Look at the way it moves back and forth like that in the bowl. Ha! It moves even faster whenever Steve hits it with his paw, this is incredible! 

_‘Bucky_!’ Steve barks as water falls over the sides of the bowl. _‘Bucky, come look at this; it’s awesome!’_

Busy pawing at the most amazing water ever--splashing it everywhere and hopping into the small puddles he’s made--Steve doesn’t realize he’s just about emptied the whole bowl. Now that there’s nearly nothing in it, it’s entirely lighter and much easier to flip over. Which happens when Steve tries to get some more water to come splashing out. 

The whole bowl flips and makes a loud crashing sound when it lands upside down, shocking the hell out of Steve and spitting water up right at his face. 

_Hey, what the hell_?

Steve barks and spins around and runs for his life before the monster bowl can attack again. 

_‘Bucky_! _’_ he shouts. _‘Bucky! Bucky! Bucky! I just saved us from the monster bowl! I did! I--’_ Steve looks back at it and cowers behind Bucky’s ankles. _‘Make… make it go away now, Bucky…’_

“Aw, what’d you do?” Bucky bends down and picks him up. “Did the mean bowl get you?”

Burying his face in Bucky’s shoulder, Steve would give anything to just disappear. Yes. Yes, the mean bowl just got him. Because he just ran away from a bowl. A _bowl_. 

“Looks like I’m gonna have to get you some proper dishes, Cap.” He sets him down on the kitchen counter and Steve doesn’t even _dare_ try to look down at the floor. If he thought the curb was high, he doesn’t even want to know what this looks like. “Clint said we could come in to see him, too. So, that’s good.” 

Ears perking up, Steve tilts his head to the side. Curious. The only way he can pull the genuine expression off. It makes Bucky snicker and smother a hand over his head.

“It’s like you can understand me or something.” 

_‘That’s because I_ can _, Bucky, I_ can _! If you’d just pay attention!’_

No such luck. Bucky doesn’t pay any closer attention than he has been. Which, for a guy who just plucked a stray pup off the street, is a lot. So, really, Steve should stop all his nagging and be grateful he’s not in the pound or something. 

Even if the Clint Bucky mentioned earlier happened to be the vet. A non-magic user at that. Which means now Steve’s sitting on a cold examination table while Bucky explains to his friend how he came across this random puppy and Steve is still stuck without anyone knowing he’s _not really a puppy_. 

At least it’s better than the waiting room. Steve didn’t like the way those other dogs were looking at him. They were giving him the stink eye, he was sure of it. If they didn’t cut it out, he’d’ve had to show each and every last one of them that he could take them. Just cause he was a puppy didn’t mean he couldn’t, no sir. Lucky for them, Bucky was called into the room. 

“You think they’re gonna be mad at me?” Bucky’s asking.

Clint shakes his head. “For getting a dog? Nah. Besides, you know me. I’m a total advocate for pets.”

“Yeah, but he’s not a service dog or anything.”

“So?” Clint shrugs. “He’ll still come in handy, I think.”

They’re quiet for a few moments while Clint does some technical work on the computer end of things. Steve, though, wishes they’d drop some clue as to what the hell they’re talking about. All he can do is sit in the table because it’s super ridiculously high and it's impossible to get away.

At least Bucky is petting him as he talks to Clint. It’s nice. Comforting. And the face he's making while talking to Clint, sort of nervous and unsure, Steve _knows_ he's seen it before, he'd swear it.

“You think I should tell them?” Bucky asks. “About the puppy?”

“Why?” Clint questions. “You’re a free citizen. You don’t need to give them a play-by-play.” 

Bucky seems to think on that for a moment. “Are you going to tell them?”

A crooked grin plays on the corner of Clint’s mouth. “I’m retired, kid. All right,” he says and comes forward. “Let’s see this big guy.”

But Steve, now realizing he means him, backs up, wanting to be closer to Bucky. This guy, though he sounds and looks perfectly nice, smells like one too many other animals. Seriously, doc, you just get this up close and personal with _all_ the other animals? 

“Aw, it’s okay, Captain,” Bucky soothes. “Clint won’t hurt you.” 

_‘Yeah, but, Bucky, I--’_

Before he can say--squeak, really--anything else, Clint is picking him up and taking him away from Bucky. Steve squirms and struggles in Clint’s gentle grip. He yips and munches on his hands because who does he think he is. Steve is a great, mighty hunter and no one is going to tell him otherwise.

“Oh, you think you’re big and bad, eh?”

_That’s right, I am_!

Steve chomps aways. He knows he’ll get somewhere. He will. He just… has to keep at it. It’ll hurt. Just wait. He’ll bring this guy on his knees and begging for mercy any second now.

“Okay, here we go, let’s get you here on the scale.”

_‘Ha ha!’_ Steve yells when Clint puts him down. _‘Victory is mine!’_

“So, he’s about eight pounds,” Clint tells Bucky, writing it down in his own charts. “That’s about average for an eight weeker.”

Eight weeks. That’s what Steve’s done to himself. He’s turned himself into an eight-week-old puppy. Wow, he’s really gone and made a mess of things. 

Clint goes on with his examination. Checking Steve’s coat. According to Clint, it’s perfect, so Steve can’t help feeling quite proud. His teeth, which prompts Steve to once again try to take his fingers off when they’re pulling his gums this way and that. His paws and claws. Tail. 

Then, “Okay, well, he looks to be a great health and all. Just need to give him his boosters and rabies shots.”

Wait, what? Shots?

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no, no. Come on, there’s no need for shots. That’s not _fair_. That’s just ridiculous. Steve doesn’t plan on staying in this body long enough that he needs _shots_. This is so unnecessary. 

The whine he makes is enough to get Bucky’s attention. Bucky pets him and tells him it’s okay. That it’s not gonna hurt. 

_Oh, come on, please? I hate shots! Don’t make me get ‘em, please, Bucky?_

“Okay,” Clint says, coming back over. “You might wanna hold ‘im.” 

***

“Oh, you’re just a big, ol baby, aren’t you?” 

Steve puts his nose up in the air. Kind of a bad idea since his nose picks up _so_ many different scents. 

The food vendors coming up--falafel, tacos, and, _oh_ , hot dogs. Pigeons and seagulls. A coffee shop. Two Tai places and an Italian place on the next block. Garbage. Urine. _So_ many different kinds of people. Very overwhelming. 

But he’s not speaking to Bucky right now. 

Not gonna hurt. 

Hmph. 

The second those needles _touched_ Steve he was yelping and wanted to run and hide. Everywhere Steve was stuck with those things is still throbbing. To make matters worse, after each prick, Clint hand-fed him a treat, and although Steve tried to object with every fiber of his being, he only found himself gobbling them down and so excited to get one again that his tail just wouldn’t cooperate with him at all. He hates that he knows the red ones taste the best. Steve’s mouth waters just thinking about it. 

He squirms a little in Bucky’s arms as the guy carries him to somewhere that’s most decidedly _not_ his place. His place is in the opposite direction, but Bucky will not tell him where they’re going. It’s a surprise. For a dog. If he’s this insufferable towards a puppy, Steve doesn’t even wanna know what it’s like dealing with him when he’s human. 

“Okay, Cap, here we are.”

_Here? Where? Where’s here? What’s going on?_

Once again squirming around, Steve twists and turns, his butt wiggling while his tail wags, until he’s finally being hugged against Bucky’s chest instead of cradled comfortably in his arms. That’s okay. This position gives him the chance to see where he’s been taken and it’s a pet store.

_Well._ Steve nibbles on the fingers petting his face. _I’ll maybe consider talking to you again if you get me those delicious cookies._

If he’s gonna be stuck like this for another day, he might as well get some of the perks. Dog treats, though they’re _dog treats_ , are great for bribes when you’ve turned yourself into a puppy. 

Bucky puts him into the front of a shopping cart. Steve hasn’t ridden up here since he was small enough for his mama to put him there. It’s actually tons of fun. Front paws up on the handle, Steve can’t help smiling at literally everything he sees, even if Bucky keeps on having to push his butt back into the seat so he sits back down. 

Every time they happen to pass by someone else with pets of their own, Steve feels the need to yell at them. How dare they come so close to him and Bucky. Not on _his_ watch. 

By the time they leave the store, it’s with an entire shopping cart full of stuff and a collar around Steve’s neck--which he’s not too thrilled about, but the little boned-shaped charm engraved with _Captain_ hanging off of it sorta makes up for the whole thing. When Bucky puts him down on the sidewalk, Steve, just excited to be down on the ground again, runs and gets maybe four feet before the collar’s choking him.

“Whoa there, Captain,” Bucky says as he both tries to not drop his bags while also quickly apologizing to the few people the leash Steve’s attached to almost tripped. 

Strange, though. Bucky’s keeping his head down as though he’s afraid to look up at them. He did that in the store, too. Almost as if he doesn’t like to look people in the eye. Or doesn’t want people looking at him. Strangers, anyway. 

“C’mon, Cap,” Bucky says once he’s got himself more organized. “I can’t really hold you this time. Think you can work with me?”

_‘Yeah, yeah. I got ya.’_

Bucky smiles. “I thought so. That’s cause I found the smartest dog in the world, right?”

Spinning around and hopping, Steve actually gets out a bark with no real purpose. 

_‘Damn right you did!’_

Once they get back to Bucky’s, Bucky get straight to work setting everything up. Two dishes get placed right in the kitchen, one already filled with water. Steve is more careful this time when he gets himself a drink though it’s awfully tempting to start playing again. He also didn’t realize how hungry he was until Bucky scoops a cup into the other bowl. 

The sounds of the kibble hitting the bottom the bowl get Steve so excited again that he turns in circles and tries, unsuccessfully, to squeeze between Bucky’s legs to get to the food. He didn't realize just how hungry he'd been until a meal was presented. Dog food or not, Steve gobbles it down so fast he barely even tastes it anyway. And actually, hey, that wasn't so bad and he’s still hungry, or maybe not hungry but he wants more food anyway so he scratches at the inside of the bowl.

_‘Hey_!’ he barks while Bucky’s busy doing something else. _‘Bucky, come gimme more food_! _I want more_! _Gimme, gimme, gimme_!’

“No can do, bud,” Bucky answers his persistent barking. “Clint says you can only have that much three times a day. Otherwise, you'll get sick. You get more when you get bigger.”

That's completely ridiculous. Clint has no idea how big he really is. He's over six feet and weighs two twenty five. Steve needs a lot more than just ⅓ cup of Kibbles and Bits three times a day. He'll waste away.

Groaning, Steve plops down and then rolls over. That gives him a view of Bucky again. He's on his hands and knees. Which means Steve has a perfect shot of the guy’s ass. It’s a nice view. 

Until Steve realize exactly what it is Bucky’s been doing and he flies right back up to his feet to run over there.

_‘And what the_ hell _do you think this is_? _I’m not_ getting in _that thing_!’

Laughing, Bucky guides Steve away when he starts chewing on the bars of the cage he’s set up. He’ll get rid of this thing. Just give him some time and he’ll chew right through it, just watch him, he knows what he’s doing. 

“Captain!” Bucky chuckles. “Come on, buddy, I’m almost done! Here. Why’d you go get this?”

‘ _No, I don’t want_ that _._ ’ Whatever it is. _‘I’m telling_ you _that I’m not getting in-wait,’_ Steve says when Bucky squeezes the thing in his hand. _‘What… what is that?’_

He tries to climb up on Bucky’s lap and get a good whiff of it, but before he can, Bucky grins and tosses it across the room. Steve gasps and doesn’t even care what the hell the thing is. All he knows is that he wants it. No, he _needs_ it, and he slips and slides all over the floor when he tries to turn so quickly, but he runs after it anyway. 

_I got it, I got it, I got it, I got it!_

It bounces off the wall. Since Steve is going at full speed he runs past the thing and glides across the floor and can’t stop. He, too, bounces off the wall. Sits up with a little shake of his head, a bit confused at what just happened. What is he doing again?

Oh, that’s right! The thingy! Steve hops up again and races towards it. And it’s a plushy dragon. Steve sinks his teeth into it. The second he does, it squeaks again and, oh no, this thing isn’t about to talk back to him. Steve gives it a rough shake. He’ll show this dragon who’s boss. That’s right. He’ll get to tell Peggy that he took on a dragon. A _dragon_. 

‘ _Bucky_!’ he growls with his jaw still clamped around the stuffed dragon. ‘ _Come look at this! Look at my greatness! Buck-ugh, you’re not listening again._ ’

Keeping it in his mouth, Steve trots back over there and gives it another squeak to get Bucky’s attention. It works this time and Bucky smiles.

“What’cha got there?”

‘ _A dragon_! _And I killed it for you_!’

Bucky takes hold of one end of the toy and at first, Steve thinks to let it go but then realizes he doesn’t want to. He tightens his grip. When Bucky gives a light pull, Steve holds onto it even more cause uh-ah, no way, he’s gone through a lot of trouble to get this thing. He’s not letting go so easily. 

A tiny growl--no ferocious, definitely ferocious--rolls through his chest. He yanks back. Gives it his best pull. Only Bucky doesn’t relent either. He keeps on pulling, too. And pulls hard enough that Steve needs to let go.

_Hey_! 

“Okay, enough playtime,” Bucky says. “It’s getting late. I should take you out.” 

Out? Oh. Oh, he means. Well, that’s good. Steve hates to admit this, but he’s kinda getting the urge, the feeling, the _need_ , to kinda… have to… go…

Steve’s not exactly sure what to do about that. On the one hand, Steve’ll finally be able to relieve the ache in his bladder. On the other, the last place he wants to do that is outside where anyone can see him going. 

So, okay, these dog instincts are a _lot_ harder to ignore than he previously thought. He’s chased squirrels and attacked a bowl of water and knows that the red treats taste best and gobbled down kibble, but so help him, he is _going_ to find some other way to go to the bathroom. 

It’s just not that easy when Bucky snaps the leash back on him and lights a cigarette once they’re outside and walks with him up and down the block encouraging him to go. If he was his normal self, he’d be grabbing onto his crotch and doing quite a dance right now. But he just can’t bring himself to do it.

_‘Oh, please, Bucky,_ please _,’_ he whimpers their third time around. _‘Please, don’t make me do this.’_

“Come on, Cap,” Bucky says. “You haven’t gone this whole time. I know you gotta do somethin’ and I’d really rather not have you peein’ all over my floors.”

No. Oh, no, that _is_ his only other option. It’s either out here or in there. Steve could just cry. If he could, he probably would. But instead, he just… closes his eyes and lets it happen. 

Turns out it’s not so bad as long as he just pretends he’s drunk and had to stumble into a back alley. Wouldn’t be the first time. 

Steve spent a lot of nights at the bars after coming home from active duty. Fighting back the Dark Magic of Hydra, side-by-side with the Howlies, had taken a toll on him, of course, but it was that last fight. Just him and Hydra’s secret weapon. The one thing that Steve wishes he could go back and do over. Regret and guilt hooked deeper into his bones than he’d realized. Way past the end of the war. Steve had to watch the trial, too. And found his solace at the bottom of a bottle. So often that it became normal to reek of booze and come home stumbling drunk. It took him some time to finally figure out that he had a problem and couldn’t go on that way.

What happened in the war wouldn’t be fixed by drowning his sorrows in liquor. He’d done what he’d done and he’d have to live with that. Throwing his life away would do nothing. 

So Steve got help and has now been sober for eighteen months and finally found a little something to do for himself. It’s not much, but it’s something.

Maybe opening a coffee and tea house with Peggy wasn’t what people expected of him when he returned, but it’s nice and it’s calming and he still gets to help people. It’s a small place, in their own little corner of Brooklyn, but they’ve got a reputation of feeling warm and safe. 

The kind of place people come to when it’s raining or when they’re having a bad day and need to forget about life for a while. Between the obviously toasty aura of Steve’s shields--which he makes noticeable on purpose--and Peggy’s alchemist mind constantly experimenting with new recipes to keep the soul at ease, the place is always packed. 

It’s at least a little something to ease Steve’s guilt. 

Steve wonders what they’ll think if he doesn’t show up for a while. Probably not much, at first. He’s a little prone to taking impromptu getaways without saying much of anything. Though, he usually leaves a voicemail or something. Someone’s gotta realize he’s missing after a few days. Not that it’ll do him much good. They’ll be looking for him, not a little golden retriever puppy. He just hopes they don’t think he’s fallen off the wagon. Gone out on a bender somewhere.

Guilt rivers through him at the thought. He doesn’t want anyone worrying about him. If it was any one of them, Steve knows damn well he’d be a mess. 

Steve sighs and rolls onto his side, making himself more comfortable on Bucky’s lap and lifting his chin so he can scratch more under there. The guy tried to leave him on the floor while he took the couch to watch television and Steve just stared at him and whimpered until Bucky caved and pulled him up there with him. Every now and then, Steve looks up at him and wonders why he feels like he should _, know_ Bucky from somewhere. 

They’ve been there for a few hours now. Show after show after show. Steve isn’t sure Bucky’s actually been watching any of them. The television is just on and the lights are out, but he’s not sleeping. He hasn’t eaten dinner either. Unless dinner counts as nearly a half a pack of cigarettes which it most decidedly does not. 

“I should go to bed.” Bucky clicks off the television. “It’s getting late.” 

The clock reads a few minutes till ten and Steve looks up at him, puzzled that this still pretty young guy would consider any time before _ten_ o’clock ‘getting late’. Even _he_ doesn’t consider that getting late and his friends call him an old man since birth. 

“What?” Bucky chuckles when he notices Steve looking at him. “Can’t I be tired?”

Tail wagging--why does this thing have such a mind of its own?--Steve stands and inches closer to him.

‘ _Yes, but if you’re gonna be such a drag, would you at least get in touch with Wanda Maximoff so I can get out of this body?_ Please?’ 

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re so cute.” Bucky covers Steve’s head with his hold hand. “Now, c’mon. It’s bedtime.”

Bedtime is apparently code for putting Steve in that atrocious cage Bucky bought from the pet store. The thing is lined with newspapers and Bucky’s placed the water bowl inside it and the little dragon toy, too. None of that makes up for the fact that he’s put Steve in a cage to sleep.

“Get some sleep, Cap,” he says as he closes the door. “I’ll see ya in the morning.” 

‘ _What do you mean: get some sleep?_ ’ The lights shut off. ‘ _Bucky! Bucky, get back here! I’m not sleeping in this thing! Bucky? Bucky! Bucky! Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, Bucky!’_

Steve doesn’t know how long he shouts for, but he is aware that his barks get whiny and high-pitched. There’re lots of annoying howls in there as well. He’ll give this much to Bucky, the guy’s got a lot of resolve. He’s able to ignore him for quite a while. But there if there’s one thing Steve knows about himself it’s that he knows he can be a pain in the ass. 

“Oh, my god, Cap, _please_!” Ha. There we go. Might’ve taken some time, but Steve knew he’d wear ‘im down. “It’s almost _two_ in the mornin’ I gotta work tomorrow, I’m begging you here!” 

Steve bites down on one of the bars of the cage. Figures it might be nice to give Bucky a bit of a reprieve. He’s pretty sure Bucky’s a smart enough guy to know what it is that he’s after. 

Alas, “Look, Cap, I’m really sorry, but Clint says I’ve gotta be strong if I’m gonna train you right.”

‘ _I don’t_ need _training.’_

“Please, just… be good, all right?”

The lights go off again and Bucky can’t’ve even made it halfway to his bedroom before Steve starts right back at it. When he hears the desperate, pitiful mix between a grunt and a whine, he almost feels bad, but then he remembers he’s in a cage. If he’s going to get out of it, this is the only way he knows how.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Bucky relents this time as he comes rushing back into the kitchen. He crouches down to open the cage and Steve is excited enough to start nibbling on his hand. “Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky you’re cute.” He takes him to the bedroom and gently places him on the bed. “Just this _one_ night, got it? _One night_.”

Right. Sure. That works for Steve. 

He doesn’t plan on staying long anyway.

One night is just fine by him. 


	2. Chapter 2

The kitchen sink turns on and Steve whimpers, backing away from the running water. Muddy pawprints dirty the countertop. He’s careful not to move too far and tumble off the edge. Not that it matters. Bucky eases him closer to the sink again. The sound that comes out of Steve is utterly pathetic. 

“Don’t blame me, buddy,” Bucky says as he picks him up and gently places him into the sink. “You’re the one who rolled around in the mud.”

Steve gives him big, wide puppy eyes. It wasn’t _his_ fault the mud was so much fun to play in. How was he supposed to know? He’s been a puppy for less than forty-eight hours. Mud, though, is fantastic. 

Firm, yet squishy. The oozy gooey-ness of it getting between Steve’s toes as he trampled through the puddle. Everything about mud is glorious and Steve could play in it for hours and hours.

Except, of course, just a minute after jumping into the puddle, he was absolutely filthy and Bucky was scolding him for doing it. Steve whined. Bucky pouted at him a little before scooping him up and carrying him home, keeping them both dry under his umbrella. Turns out, Bucky’s a total sucker for puppy-eyes and whines. Steve’s starting to really like him. 

Now, Steve’s doing his best to inch away from the water coming out of the faucet even though it’s hardly on at full power. 

“Come on, Cap,” Bucky encourages. “You gotta work with me a little here. You’re a mess. And I’ve gotta get you warmed up.”

He does have him on that. Fur and all, Steve is shivering all over. Much to his embarrassment, not all of it is because he’s cold. Some of the trembling limbs come from absolutely dreading this whole bath situation. Steve keeps trying to climb out of the sink, slipping and sliding on the wet edges. Which is strange. He’s not afraid of water. Last he checked, retrievers liked waters, too. He’s a shame to all dogs. Steve sighs. It comes out as a little whine.

“Not done yet.” Bucky just pushes him back down. “Hold still.”

 _Oh, come on, Bucky_. Water runs over Steve’s eyes. _Can’t we work something out_?

More water splashes across Steve’s face. He licks water runs down his mouth and then has a very strong instinct to shake. When he starts to whine and whimper, Bucky chuckles. 

“Oh, stop being such a big baby,” he teases. “We’re almost done.”

Big puss on his face, Steve sulks and curses all his life choices as Bucky finishes washing the rest of the suds out of his sopping wet fur. 

The very second he turns the water off and reaches for a towel, Steve can’t help himself. He needs to try to get this water off his body. Steve shakes as hard as he can. Puppy fat and fur can’t keep up with his movements, and drops of water fly off of him just like he wants. Everywhere. 

“No, wait wait!” Bucky cries. “Aw, c’mon.”

 _‘Ha!_ ’ Steve stands up proudly, now just managing to get onto his hind legs. ‘ _Can I get out now, Bucky? We’re done now, right? Right?_ ’

Bucky sighs and picks him up out of the sink, plopping him onto a towel on the counter. He then drops another towel on top of him and that’s just not very nice at all. Steve rolls around inside of it, trying to find his way out of the dark, cotton wormhole until he hears Bucky laughing and suddenly it’s bright again.

This time, Bucky actually picks him up in the towel to dry him off. He rubs the sides of it against him. It’s actually fun. Even more so when Bucky puts him down. Steve is so excited he starts running around the coffee table. He’s not even sure why. He survived a bath and now he’s almost completely dry and warmed up and all he wants to do is run around in circles. 

‘ _Bucky_!’Steve barks. ‘ _Bucky, come play with me_!’

No, wait. This is getting Steve nowhere. Sure the mud was probably a lot more fun as a puppy than a human, but he’s supposed to be looking for ways _out_ of this current form. 

Today’s weather won’t help matters. Dark. Stormy. They won’t be going out anywhere. Bucky took Steve out for his morning walk and gave him a bath and has fallen back into bed. Unusual since he said last night that he had to work. 

Steve’s already eaten his breakfast. So has Bucky if that half a bowl of cereal, cup of coffee, and two cigarettes count as breakfast. If it was up to Steve, he’d get Bucky to eat something a little more substantial than that, but there’s nothing he can do now. 

After wandering around the place a bit, Steve meanders into Bucky’s bedroom and sits down next to the bed. He watches Bucky sleep for a few minutes. In a totally not creepy way, he swears. There’s just something about Bucky. 

He doesn’t look exactly relaxed. Not tense, but not relaxed either. Almost as though he’s waiting for something bad to happen. Steve doesn’t like it. 

Wanting to get up there with him, Steve jumps, misses the bed entirely and ends up falling flat on his side. 

_Oof_. Steve shakes his head. _Well, that sucked_. 

Steve hops back to his feet and barks until Bucky groans and opens his eyes. The second they land on Steve, Steve finds tongue hanging out of his mouth and his tail wagging like crazy. If he’s not gonna get to anyone magical enough to tell the difference between puppy and human-turned-puppy then the least Bucky can do is share some cuddles. 

Besides, if last night is any indicator, Bucky’s a pretty good cuddler and he can afford to be lazy on this rainy day.

He must get the idea, too, since the second he sees Steve there, he smiles and pulls him up onto the bed with him. 

“Hey there, you,” he murmurs. “Gonna nap with me, huh?”

Bucky, rubbing at his eyes first, picks up his phone to check the time and yawns before dropping it back onto the end table. 

“Still got some time before anyone’s gonna bug me,” he says. “Let’s relax, shall we?”

That must be code for sleeping until his phone starts blowing up two hours later. When it does that, Bucky jumps up, nearly knocking Steve out of the bed with him, and shoots an answer back to whoever’s texting him. Bucky, rubbing sleep from his eyes and smacking his lips together, finally gets out of bed at almost noon. 

First thing he does is amble into the bathroom where he washes up again. Sort of. This means splashing cold water on his face and running a toothbrush across his teeth before picking through some ratty t-shirts and then throwing a pair of sweats on.

Outside, the day storms on. Rain streaks down the windows like glossy streams, though that’s even hard to tell since ever blind is this place is closed. In the distance, there’s some rumbling. 

Steve then follows Bucky to the kitchen, still waiting to be noticed. Nothing's ever going to get done at this rate. While Bucky’s making himself what Steve thinks is toast, he gives him a loud, irritated puppy shout to call attention to himself. Bucky looks down at him and smiles. 

‘ _Well, it’s about_ time _,_ ’ Steve grumbles. ‘ _Listen, Bucky, clearly you got some stuff goin’ on and I’m sorry about that, but I need you to_ try _to pay attention here. I’m not--’_

“Hey, you hungry, boy?”

‘-- _a real-what? Wait… what’d you say?_ ’

Steve’s ears perk up. He finds himself standing up on all fours again suddenly very aware of his stomach. 

“You wanna eat, Cap?”

‘ _I… do I wanna eat_? _’_ Steve thinks on that for a second and ends up dashing to his bowl. ‘ _Yes_! _Yes, I wanna eat_! _I haven’t eaten in days and days and days_! _Why would you_ starve _me like this, Bucky, how could you be so_ cruel? _Gimme the food_! _Gimme gimme gimme_!’

On the other end of the kitchen, while Steve paws at his empty bowl _pleading_ with Bucky to fill it, Bucky chuckles and gets the food down. In reality, Steve’s somewhat aware that he only ate a few hours ago. He’s also aware that he’s not even close to starving and only a little bit hungry. The idea of eating, though, is just so exciting that he’ll dance all over the kitchen floor, his claws click-clacking and sliding, and made such a spectacle of himself, and not even care one bit. That’s _food_. And _food_ is currently the bestest thing in the whole wide world. 

Bucky barely has the chance to pour the kibble into the bowl; Steve charges headfirst at it the instant the scoop is near it. 

_Oh yes._ Steve crunches and swallows and gathers up another mouthful. _Oh, amazing. Oh, this is better than sex_. 

_‘More_!’ Steve demands when is food dish is empty. He slaps his paw over the side of it. ‘ _Gimme more, human Bucky_!’ But Bucky is no longer in the kitchen. Which is completely ridiculous how is Steve supposed to eat if there’s no one to get him more food. ‘ _Bucky_! _Bucky, get back here_! _Bucky, I need more_ \--’

It’s the horribly, loud _BOOM_ that drowns out Steve’s ferocious puppy demands. 

The noise runs right through Steve’s entire tiny body. Shakes him right through the very core and he’s running full speed out of the kitchen. He can’t get out of there fast enough. 

‘ _Bucky_!’ he yelps. ‘ _Bucky, help_! _A monster_! _Bucky, Bucky, Bucky!_ ’

In the living, Bucky is on the couch. As soon as Steve comes running in, crying as he does, he’s picking him up into his arms to comfort him. 

“Aw, it’s okay, buddy,” he’s saying. “It was just thunder, it won’t hurt you. I promise.” 

Steve clunks his head against Bucky’s left arm. Thunder. Of course it was just thunder. That’s even what he heard earlier. Farther away. Thunder. 

“Here.” Bucky settles Steve onto his lap. “You sit here while I work, okay?”

Sure. Fine. Steve’s not gonna argue. If it thunders again, Steve would rather be right here anyway since he’s apparently terrified of it. 

_Anyway, let’s see what you’re up to_.

One quick look at Bucky’s opened laptop and Steve almost leaps forward. He’s logged into the Stark Industries Employees page. If he can get Bucky to understand, then maybe he can get Steve to Tony. Sure, he’ll never hear the end of it, but that’s better than be stuck this way. 

“No, no! Captain!” Bucky catches him before he can lunge at the screen. “Can’t break the computer, buddy. Don’t think they’re gonna be happy about that.”

‘ _No, but, Bucky, if you get me to Tony Stark, he can_ help _me_!’ Steve starts sniffing Bucky’s hands. ‘ _Do you… do you_ know _him_? _Is that why you look familiar to me_?’ 

Steve doesn’t think that’s the reason. Nothing against Bucky, but he just doesn’t seem the type that would be running the same circle as Tony. Which isn’t saying much given that Steve and Tony are friends and plenty of people would probably think the same about them. 

It’s just… this sense that Steve _knows_ Bucky from somewhere runs deeper than just having met him through someone else. 

And he’s really having trouble shaking that. 

No matter what Steve tries now, though, Bucky doesn’t let him near the computer. Understandable, Steve guesses, for someone who thinks the puppy is really a puppy. Frustrating for the human trapped in puppy form who’s simply trying to convey a message. 

It doesn’t take all that long for Bucky to finish up his work and when he does, he shuts his laptop and, at first, Steve wants to cry. Then he doesn’t care one way or the other because once his work is done and now that he’s out of bed, Bucky is _all_ about paying attention to him. 

They can’t go outside to play cause it’s still raining -- though Steve is _so_ not opposed to playing out in the mud again if Bucky’ll let him -- but Bucky has a whole bag of toys that he bought from the pet store yesterday. That, plus the plushy dragon from yesterday, too. 

There’re squeaky toys and bouncy toys and rope toys and chewy toys. Steve tears through some of them right away and Bucky, to Steve’s dismay, throws them in the garbage. Bucky tosses things across the room for Steve, plays tug-of-war with Steve, hides things behind his back for Steve to find. 

By the time they get back from their evening walk, Steve is so pooped, he can barely even think about trying to figure out a way contact Wanda or even any of his other magically inclined friends. Tonight, he’s okay with just passing out curled up next to Bucky. Cause, pooped or not, there’s no _way_ he’s sleeping in that cage. 

***

“Cât costă?” Bucky asks the little old lady at the bodega down the block from his building. “Pentru prune?”

Day five.

Five long miserable days as a puppy.

Well, okay, that’s not entirely fair.

They haven’t been completely miserable. 

Long and predictable, but not miserable. 

This, however, is the most interaction with the outside world Steve’s seen Bucky have other than with his vet friend, Clint. When Bucky took Steve to see him and when the guy stopped by two days ago. 

One knock on the door and Bucky’s entire demeanor shifted. Steve had never seen something like that before. One second he’d been making a pot of coffee, chit-chatting with his little puppy pal, the next it was as though he thought he needed to be ready to take down an entire government organization with his bare hands. 

When Clint announced it was just him, the breath Bucky released from his lungs was filled with so much relief, Steve wanted to throw a shield around his entire place just to make him feel safe. 

“Hey,” Bucky greeted when he answered the door. Slowly. Like he still needed to remain on high alert. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, course it is. Can’t I check in on you?” Clint came in smiling. “And bring you these?”

What he had were two bags of gourmet puppy treats. Steve started drooling at the sight. They made Bucky snort. 

“Is that coffee I smell?”

Bucky nodded. “I just put on a pot. You want?”

“Do I…?” He chuckled. “Kid, do you know me at all?”

A smile twitched on the corners of Bucky’s mouth. He invited Clint in and locked the door up tight behind him. While they sat drinking their coffee, Steve warmed up to Clint a bit more -- gourmet treats and all -- Bucky and Clint talked a bit. About Steve at first. How he was doing. If Bucky had any concerns. Then… about other things. 

“Did you… tell anyone?” Bucky asked. 

Clint grinned. “I told you I wasn’t going to.” 

Bucky sighed. “You’re not telling me something.”

That grin became more defined. “You haven’t called in a while. She’s worried about you.”

He ran a hand across his face and then rested his head across his arms folded over the table.

“I’m only supposed to call when something happens.”

“You used to call every week,” Clint pointed out. “Whether you needed to or not.”

Though Steve had no idea what they were talking about, he didn’t like that it was bothering Bucky. He didn’t like the fact that Bucky thought he needed to check in with people all the time. Bucky was his own person. He shouldn't have to check in with anyone but himself.

“I’m all right.” Bucky shrugged. “Nothing to report. S’why I haven’t called.” 

Clint’s hand inched closer, but, and Steve took special note of this, he stopped just shy of touching Bucky. That had been done on purpose, Steve was sure of it. The second Clint moved closer, Bucky tensed. He didn’t move, like he’d been sure Clint wouldn’t actually touch him, like he knew Clint would be perfectly aware such a thing wouldn’t be acceptable, but he still tensed. 

“You know that’s not why she wants you to call,” Clint said. “She just worries.” 

A crooked grin teased the side of Bucky’s mouth. “I know. I’ll call her. I promise.”

So far, Bucky hasn’t made good on the promise. Not that Steve’s seen anyway and as far as Steve’s concerned he’s pretty much a fixture in Bucky’s life now. Which is probably why he’s with him while he gets his plums. 

At least this lady makes him smile. So far as Steve can tell, she’s giving him the plums for free. Bucky’s telling her that’s not necessary, but she’s insisting that it’s fine. Body language. Steve can’t really understand the language -- Romanian, he thinks -- but he can tell that’s what’s going on. 

Bucky’s blushing as she pushes the bag toward him without accepting any money. It completely adorable, really. He keeps trying to hand the money over, but she’s backing away, pointing to the shovel behind the counter. Steve takes that to mean Bucky used to shovel snow for her during the winter. Honestly, this guy is too sweet for his own good. 

Finally giving in, Bucky smiles, thanks her, and takes the fruit before heading home. Money still in his hand, instead of stuffing it back into his pocket, Bucky gives it to the young homeless girl on the corner. 

“Thank you,” she says. “Can I pet your dog?”

“Oh.” Bucky adjusts his cap so that his face is hidden under the shadow of its brim. “Of course.” 

Steve trots forward to be pet. He likes being pet. Then again, he’s always been fond of touches. That hasn’t changed with fur and floppy ears. 

“He’s super cute,” the girl says. _Of course I am._ “What’s his name?”

“Um.” Bucky glances around a bit. “Captain. His name is Captain.” 

“Captain.” She smiles as she gives Steve a chin scratch. “That’s a good name.” 

“Thanks. I should, uh, get going.” Bucky starts to leave, the girl thanking him once again for the bit of money he spared her when he pauses and pulls something else out of his pocket. “Hey, um, look, why don’t you give them a call.” He hands a little business card to her. “They might be able to help you. If you want… help. Or need it.” Bucky clears his throat. “I dunno.” 

She turns the card between her fingers a few times. “What’re you? Some kind of missionary or something?”

Bucky chuckles. “No. Just… something.” 

“Well, Mr. Something, thanks. I’ll keep this handy.” 

Smiling, Bucky gives her a little wave and then leads the way back home. He looks exhausted by the time they make it there. All that social interaction -- the whole two people -- must’ve really worn the guy out. 

From his medicine cabinet he takes the prescriptions drugs that Steve watches him take every night a bit earlier tonight. Which means he’s gonna go to bed soon. 

Well, first he’ll play a little with Steve. Then they’ll nuzzle up on the couch. Then bed.

See.

Not miserable.

Just predictable. 

***

One day.

Five days.

Twenty.

Fall is starting to sprinkle across Brooklyn and Steve is still nowhere closer getting this problem solved than when Bucky scooped him up that first day. Leaves become a blaze of color and sunflowers are replaced by pumpkins and still, Steve is running around on all fours. All Hallow’s Eve is less than two months away. A big day for Steggy’s Cafe. If Steve doesn’t get this fixed, he’s gonna miss it. 

They’ve fallen into something of a routine, Steve supposes. 

Bucky has an alarm set for nine in the morning, but that hardly means he’s getting up for the day. What it means is stumbling out of bed to take Steve out, having a cigarette while out there, then going back inside where he’ll pour a cup of food into Steve’s bowl and then collapse right back into bed. Bucky usually sleeps until noon. Crawls out of bed like he’s gotten no rest at all and probably only because at that time of day his phone starts going off like crazy.

“Okay, okay,” he’ll grumble. “I’m coming.”

Breakfast usually comes out of a box. Cereal. Oatmeal. Pop-tarts. Not to say that’s bad, but given the rest of Bucky’s diet, it’s not quite the greatest either. He usually eats in front of the laptop while doing whatever his work might be. Some data entry for Stark Industries, Steve guesses. Something that doesn’t appear to hold Bucky’s interest but he always gets it all done and gets it done fast and when he does he immediately gives his attention to Steve. Which means…

“You wanna eat, Cap?” he’ll ask, big smile on his face. “Hm? You hungry?”

 _‘Oh, thank god!’_ Steve always hops and turns in circles, he just can’t help it. _‘I’m wasting away, feed me!’_

While Steve eats, Bucky might shower, but most days he just splashes some water on his face and runs a toothbrush across his teeth. Some days he changes, some days he just tosses on the same thing he had on the previous day. Either way, after that, they go out for another walk. A real one this time, not just milling around the front of the building.

If Steve had to pick his favorite thing about being a dog, he would have to say it was going on walks with Bucky. Even though the guy does what he can to sort of keep himself hidden -- always wearing that worn out cap, keeping that hoodie with him, wearing long sleeves to keep his metal arm covered -- it’s the one time Steve gets to see him interact with people anyway. It’s just unavoidable. And watching Bucky interact with people is simply adorable.

“Ooh, look, a doggy!” a little kid might point out. “Mister, can I pet your doggy?”

So far, Bucky’s never denied anyone permission to pet Steve. The thing is, he gets all bashful whenever he gives it. Feet shuffling. Wringing out his hands. As though the thought of someone asking _him_ for permission to do something is so totally outlandish, he needs to remind himself that Steve is _his_ dog. 

Well, in this warped, crazy way. For now. Steve’ll just go with that because it makes Bucky happy and smile and for some reason he really likes that cute, little smile on his face whenever a kid gets all excited and thanks him.

“You’re welcome,” Bucky says. “He’s a good dog, right?”

Steve, in the middle of being pet, will leap between the two of them because, _that’s_ right _I’m a good dog_! 

If anyone asks him what he’s named Steve, Bucky blushes before saying “Captain”. People all agree that this name suits him. Because he’s a _yappy guy_ , as Bucky puts it. 

When Bucky happens to make eye contact with someone friendly enough to smile at him, he lights up like they’ve just made his day. For some reason, Bucky doesn’t exactly expect people to be kind to him. He keeps his head down and goes about his business as quickly as possible before he can escape to the solitude of his little-hidden apartment again. 

There is one thing that’s completely off limits. No one is allowed to touch him. When they do, Bucky pulls back. Sometimes he looks sick. Like the thought of being touched is nauseating. It’s rare that he’s okay with it. 

But they’re never out very long. Unless there’s a specific reason for them to be out -- like to go to that bodega down the street where Bucky speaks Romanian to the owners and almost always gets free plums -- around the block a few times is really all they get. 

Steve wonders a lot why Bucky keeps the blinds down. It might be nice to get some real sunlight into his place since he rarely goes out. Poor guy. He could use some sun. It’s like Bucky’s trying to shut as much of the world out as he possibly can. 

Sometimes, when Bucky is just sitting there doing nothing in particular or staring into space -- and sometimes it looks like he might want to cry and that’s another look that Steve _really_ knows, he’s seen it before, honestly -- Steve will catch his attention with a little bark. That never fails to make him smile. Bucky’ll scoop Steve onto his lap and hug him close and kiss his head. 

“God, I love you,” he’ll murmur. “I’m so glad I found you, Cap. You’re the best thing in my life.”

The most affection and attention Bucky gives to anyone and he gives it to Steve and Steve can’t say that he really minds because he just loves being showered in all of it. It makes his tail wag uncontrollably and he returns the kisses with wet puppy ones and nibbles at fingers. At the same time, he worries that it’s not healthy for Bucky. And he’s really starting to like the guy, even though he’s not a magic user who can get him changed back into a human.

They’ve had their share of odd and awkward moments. For Steve, anyway. There’s nothing unusual, he’s sure, for Bucky on a day that he _does_ shower to simply come out of the bathroom and let the towel fall from around his waist while he dries his hair. He lives alone. With just a puppy. Who he has no idea is actually a caster who accidentally turned himself into a puppy and knew he should’ve covered his eyes or ran away as embarrassment crept through him. 

But Steve just can’t take his eyes off of Bucky’s body because it turns out Bucky’s body is an actual work of art. And makes his throat dry. And his belly clench. 

Still, none of this behavior ever keeps Bucky from play time with Steve--which he’s affectionately named _puppy time_. Even trying to resist canine instincts, Steve has to admit, it’s a blast playing with the guy. He gets down on all fours and makes funny noises and faces.

And he teases him. 

Oh, _boy_ does he tease him. Holds up toys just out of Steve’s reach. It’s mean, really. Cruel. Sadistic. 

“You want it, Cap?” Bucky will ask. “You want me to throw the ball?”

_‘Yes! Yes, damn it, Bucky, yes! Throw it! Throw it! Throw, throw it, throw it!”_

Steve’ll jump up and down and turn in circles and roll over, his tag wagging like crazy, all because of a stupid squeaky red ball. That Bucky holds out in front of him and pulls away and dangles overhead because he’s the meanest person in the world.

“Huh? You want this, buddy?”

 _‘Bucky, yes_! _Please, please_! _I_ need _it_! _It’s the best ball ever, I--_ ”

“Go get it!”

Bucky throws his arm out and Steve spins around to run as fast as he can cause the only thing he can think of is getting that damn ball. 

_‘He threw it! He threw it, he threw it, he threw-wait…_ ” 

Steve glances around. He puts his nose to the floor and tries to sniff it out, only to realize that the ball is still in Bucky’s hand because he never threw it at all and that’s the most horrible thing anyone has ever done to Steve in the history of ever. Bucky doesn’t seem to agree since he laughs and tosses the ball up once and catches it again, but Steve’s officially decided that he hates him forever. 

Except that the moment Steve comes to this conclusion, Bucky _does_ throw the ball and it’s coming for Steve and forget what he thought earlier, Bucky is the _best_ person in the whole wide _world_.

The ball is a little bit too big for Steve’s mouth, but he’s somehow able to get the thing back to Bucky and the whole thing starts all over again. 

It’s impossible not to like him, really. Despite his looks, the guy’s a total softy. Scruffy, yes. Sometimes looks like he could snap someone’s neck as easily as snapping his fingers, sure. Suspicious of nearly everyone he meets, yeah. None of that stops him from rolling all over the floor with Steve. He still nibbles on a shy grin whenever someone says hello to him out on the streets. He’s the most polite person in the world to the people he does talk with. 

The most interaction Steve’s seen besides Bucky buying groceries has been with the vet, Clint. No one ever calls him either. Only texts. From work, Steve thinks, so they’re not exactly personal.

It worries Steve. Surely Bucky needs more social interaction than what he’s getting. The way he’s cut himself off from the world can’t be healthy. That, plus the way he eats and all the cigarettes… Steve wishes there was something more he could do for him. Ask him what’s wrong or even just give him a hug. 

Then again, maybe the hug wouldn’t be such a good idea. Bucky shies away from most touches. 

Steve’s come to the full conclusion that Bucky can do no magic at all. Not that that’s unusual. Only about twenty percent of the population can. Steve had been the only magic user in his entire unit. Whatever haunts Bucky from his past must be the reason for all the wards around his place. He’s trying very hard to keep something out even though the entire time Steve’s been there not even a person has come by. 

The lack of magic being used nearby and their scarce trips outside are what make it a lot more difficult for Steve to do something about this predicament. If he can't get someone to notice he's not a real dog, he'll never get to Wanda's. His only other hope will be for this spell to wear off on its own. 

Since it’s not his own spell, chances are it will. The only question remaining is when. 

***

It’s a little before midnight on Steve’s twenty-first night as a puppy. He knows almost right down to the very hour. Kind of hard not to. Bucky’s been in bed since twenty past nine. He hadn’t fallen asleep right away, so Steve should have realized something was wrong already. Normally, Bucky pops some pills -- prescriptions that he takes like clockwork every day and night -- and within minutes he’s snoozing away. 

Tonight, even after taking whatever meds he’s on, he’d been awake for a good hour. Steve had been curled up next to him, content to just have Bucky’s hand petting over him. Bucky knew all the best spots to get. He’d fallen asleep still sitting up. If Steve could, he’d pull the blankets up for him. 

The chill starts it. Even covered in fur, a shiver runs through Steve’s body. He lifts his head. A burst of frost mixes with the air. Silver flakes drift from the ceiling. Bucky trembles. Thunder claps outside. Loud. Overbearing. Steve shrinks into Bucky's side, hiding from the sound, but Bucky doesn't wake. He trembles from something else, though. Whimpers. Shadows darken. Pulse. Peel off the wall. 

Something is coming into their space. Something unnatural.

Steve can’t imagine how. The wards Bucky has in place are good and strong. Meant for keeping the unnatural out. Steve reaches out for them. Touches at the energy that surrounds Bucky’s home and finds them still set. Nothing’s been reversed. 

When Steve hears the whimper, he thinks he might know what’s happening. Looking back to Bucky, he sees his face all scrunched up, his fists clenched, his jaw locked. He sucks in a rough, jagged breath. Tears leak out of his tightly closed eyes. That trembling is no longer because of the cold. 

“No,” he whimpers, his head tossing back and forth. “No, please. Don’t. Пожалуйста. Нет. Прости. I’m so sorry.”

A nightmare. Bucky’s having a nightmare. And is summoning something dark because of it. No wonder the wards aren’t working. Maybe he’s not as unmagical as Steve previously thought.

Steve needs to wake him. He jumps onto his lap and barks as loudly as he can. Bucky wakes with a horrified gasp, leaping up and practically knocking Steve off the bed. He’s shaking. Tears plummet from his eyes. 

“Oh gods,” he whispers. Presses his hands against his ears. “Not again. Please, not again.”

The cold comes on stronger now. Shadows turn to ash, stretching over everything and spinning in corners. Steve jumps from the bed just before Bucky shoots off it and shoves it to the wall. It crashes, pillows and blankets tossed this way and that. 

Steve, not in a million years, could’ve been prepared for what he sees under there. A magical circle painted on the floor. Detailed and intricate. Steve doesn’t even know what it’s for. All he knows is the pentacle, but he recognizes nothing else. He can’t read the inscriptions or the decipher the symbols. It’s old. So old he’s beginning to wonder if the magic Bucky’s delved into isn’t his own, but rather magic conjured from the Dark Arts that became too strong for him to control. 

All he can do is watch while Bucky darts around the room preparing for whatever ritual he’s about to do. A task made much more difficult by all the shaking. Hard to carry four thick candles across the room when they keep dropping. He’s still crying, too. Silently. But the tears still fall down his face. 

When Bucky’s finished gathering his things, he sits in the center of his circle and tries desperately to light all four candles, another task that takes him several tries since he can’t get the matches lit. He starts mumbling something, a spell Steve assumes. The candles start to flicker as frost begins to crawl down the walls. 

Bucky trembles harder and lets out a tearless sob as he starts adding spices to the chipped, ceramic bowls next to each candle. Coconut in one. Basil in another. Cinnamon. And lastly, ginseng root. He lets them slowly simmer while continuing his spell. 

It’s when Bucky places a hawk feather in a small pile of salt that it suddenly dawns on Steve what this is. This isn’t black magic at all. This is a Protection Circle. A very old, very outdated one, but as strong as they come and it looks like Bucky is in desperate need of one.

Whispers slip through the cold, frigid air. Incoherent, but they’re there. Mixed with Bucky’s quivering voice and the storm brewing outside. Rain turns to hail. 

He holds his hand above the flame in front of him, so low Steve is worried he’s going to burn himself. But the fire doesn’t do anything to hurt Bucky. Instead, it, and the other three flames, just turn black. Bucky’s eyes, in turn, film over in white. 

Magic stirs stronger. Steve hasn’t felt so much magic in years. The dark energy swirls into a thick fog around Bucky’s circle. Bucky’s incantation tries to push it away. They clash. Darkness shoves. All the candles flicker and Bucky falls over with a painful gasp. The white film in his eyes recedes as he sees all the darkness around him. 

“Please, go away,” Bucky says in the middle of his circle. Eyes closed and hands against his ears. “Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, just leave me alone.”

Something wicked is coming. Something of Bucky’s own making and he can’t seem to stop it. Ice and frost cake the floor, inching closer and closer from all sides, crackling and popping as it does. Steve might not have any idea what’s really going on or what Bucky’s been up to, but he’s not just going to sit here and let it happen. Without a second thought, he leaps into the circle with Bucky.

The air around him is already charged with so much magic he can feel it buzzing at his toes. Steve pushes past the magic and if Bucky’s only _dabbling_ in spells and hexes and curses, it shouldn’t be as hard as it is. But this magic is pure and difficult to get through. Magic that belongs to Bucky. Steve can feel it as he gathers his strength and throws a shield up around them. 

All the candles blow out. The frost instantly stops just inches from them. Warmth returns. 

Bucky slowly opens his eyes and lowers his hands away from his ears. He sniffles. Looks around. Then breathes an exhausted sigh of relief before letting his shoulders sag and his head roll to the side. 

Once again, Steve just sits there, watching. Waiting to be noticed. Wondering if at anytime during all of that, Bucky remembered that he was there. But after just a minute or two, Bucky’s gaze flicks to him. He doesn’t exactly smile but his lips form the making of one and he pats his thigh like he wants him to come over. Steve does.

“Hey, boy.” He picks him up onto his lap. “You okay?”

‘I’m _okay, are_ you _okay_?’

“Sorry, Cap,” he murmurs. “I didn’t want you to ever go through that. I hope you weren’t too scared. Though…” Bucky laughs a sad sort of laugh. “You hopped in here with me. Like you didn’t want me to be alone or something.”

_I didn’t, you knucklehead. You needed help. What’d you think, I was just gonna abandon you?_

There are still unshed tears. Still teartracks that he starts to wipe away. Bucky doesn’t get up yet though. Seems he doesn’t quite have the energy for that. He just buries his head in Steve’s coat and finds whatever comfort he can there and Steve is more than okay with that. If he can’t hug the poor guy, this is the best he can do for him. 

That shield is still up, too. Made of brute and strength. Steel. Steve doesn’t necessarily think it needs to come down yet, but maybe a change. He weaves through it. Changes steel for something warmer. Comforting. Sunlight. 

Within a few minutes, Bucky must be feeling a little better. He composes himself and starts getting up. Steve has an urge to tell him not to rush. Don’t over-do it. But Bucky insists he has to. 

“Gotta make a phone call,” is his excuse. “Them’s the rules.” 

Steve can’t imagine who he’d be calling at almost one o’clock in the morning, but Bucky does grab that cell phone that’s never used for anything more than giving Bucky texts and actually dials a number. He looks nervous as he waits for whoever he’s calling to answer. Plays with the strings of his pajama pants and nibbles on his lips. Even winces when the line picks up. 

“Agent Romanov?”

 _Agent Romanov_? 

Wait a sec… Steve’s heard of her. 

“It happened again.” 

***

Thirty minutes later and there’s a knock at the door. Bucky’s been sitting on the couch sucking on cigarette after cigarette and just staring at the glass of whiskey he poured himself instead of drinking it. He glances over at the door. Doesn’t move for it right away. Bucky sighs, makes a face at Steve, and drags himself off the couch. 

Steve can’t see who’s there at first, but he can hear Bucky talking to her. Softly. His head is down.

“It’s been three months,” she says. “This isn’t unusual. You’ve never gone this long.You should be proud, James.”

James?

Proud doesn’t seem to be the word Bucky would chose to call the feeling racing through him. If anything, he looks ashamed. Scared, even. All Steve wants to do is comfort him. Run around the couch and hop into Bucky’s arms and nuzzle against him. 

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Just me,” she answers. “Someone’ll come by tomorrow for some more debriefing, but tonight it’s just us.” 

Bucky lets out a dark, wet scoff. “No one worried I’m not gonna go all Winter Soldier on you?”

Steve gasps. Puppy eyes wide. Heart pounding like the wings of a hummingbird.

Just like that, Steve knows exactly why Bucky looks so familiar. Exactly why he feels like he should know him. Because he _does_ know him. He’s even met him before. Under horribly different circumstances. Everyone else knows him, too. Of him, anyway. He’s famous. Infamous, really. And not for the best of reasons. 

James Buchanan Barnes. 

The Winter Soldier. 

An arcane mage. 

Hydra’s secret weapon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to check me out on tumblr for more stucky and marvel fun at [thebestpersonherelovesbucky](http://thebestpersonherelovesbucky.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

James Buchanan Barnes. 

Taken right out of his life to warp the rare and very misunderstood magic that runs through his veins and use it for chaos and disorder. 

Arcane magic is a cold, precise magic that runs through the very fabric of life. Volatile. A skill that requires extreme precision and concentration to control the streams of energy that run through the ley lines that criss-cross from this world into another. Power of arcane magic comes from reaching into the arcane realm, a place of magic outside all other realities.

When done right, arcane magic can do generally anything. Things that other magic users can typically do as well, it’s just their means of doing it, their accuracy, their rarity… 

A witch as skilled as Wanda, like an arcane mage, can manipulate both time and space. She can create objects from nothing. She can use her magic to turn herself or anything invisible, inaudible. Wanda can multiply herself or polymorph objects into something else entirely. Her magic can be used to animate objects and rewind time and conjure illusions. 

The difference is the feel of her magic. The warmth of it it. Its purity. Magic created by drawing energy from this plane of existence. 

Not that cold, lifeless feeling of arcane magic that Steve felt firsthand during the war. White and violet streams of magic slamming fast and hard into his shields. Shattering them one by one. Sometimes quicker than he could get them back up. Storms of fire that backed him and the Commandos into so many corners. Walls of lightning. Icy cold chains of magic that wrapped around Steve the closer he got. 

They call Steve a hero. Because he fought hand-to-hand and face-to-face with Hydra’s arcane mage himself and won. It was the turning point in the war. Hydra’s forces were held off after that and a victory was declared.

But Steve saw something nobody else got to that day. When Bucky still had two arms and was Hydra’s Winter Soldier, the deadliest weapon they had. When he wore a muzzle to control him that Steve mistook for a mask to conceal him. When their magic clashed and bronzed and turned the earth the ash. The Winter Soldier, with more kills in Hydra history, did not have the eyes of a killer. 

They were cold, yes. They were focused and deadly and precise. But there was something else in them. Something Steve recognized immediately. The Winter Soldier wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. The Winter Soldier was being controlled.

They call Steve a hero for the decision he made that day. The Winter Soldier attacked again. And Steve, even knowing what he did, countered. Their spells hit. Tossed them both back. When the Winter Soldier lifted himself up, Steve could see his eyes begin to clear of whatever mentalist spell had been placed on him. He glanced around. Touched the mask on his face. Eyes growing wide with pain and shock and horror. Confusion as he was suddenly surrounded and forced to the ground.

The offensive shield Steve threw had cost the Winter Soldier his arm and his freedom and won the war. 

Steve knew… he _knows_ he needed to end the war as quickly as possible and that was the best way to do it. But not a day has gone by in the past five years that he wishes he did it differently. Wishes he had just a few more seconds to’ve thought of a way to reach into the mind of the Winter Soldier and wake the man behind the spell before anyone else got to them. 

Steve remembers candid snapshots and quick glimpses on T.V. of an armless man being led to and from the courthouse during the trial eighteen months later, but mostly the sketches when it was taking place. Drawings or not, James Buchanan Barnes -- whom no one ever referred to as Bucky -- looked utterly terrified. Hopeless. Suicidal, his defense attorneys Matt Murdock and Jennifer Walters claimed. 

Bucky, Steve learned, though, as he became obsessed with the trial, had been studying for an English degree at New York University before Hydra abducted him. He had a younger sister. He had friends. He loved to dance. He went to the Stark Expo every year. His dorm room was full of books. Before Hydra made him into their weapon, James Buchanan Barnes had a life. 

That’s when Steve started drinking.

Some people were calling the Winter Soldier a cold-blooded killer. They wanted his head. For him to spend the rest of his life in jail. Solitary confinement. Despite the evidence of what had been done to him, all they cared about was having someone to blame for the blood that had been spilled. 

Others supported him. Didn’t think it’d be fair to punish someone so harshly when their crimes were not of their own doing. Magicians tried to sort through all the spells weaved into the Winter Soldier’s mind to control it. What had been done to him was unforgivable. A perversion of nature. What he’d done all those years… it wasn’t his fault. 

The prosecution even came to Steve to write up a report for them asking for details on what the Winter Soldier had been like during combat. Except Steve couldn’t give them what they wanted. And instead, Steve gave his full and real opinion supporting the Winter Soldier to the defense.

At the end of the four-month-long trial, James Buchanan Barnes, was found guilty and sentenced to time served. And then disappeared. 

Turns out, he’s been here in Brooklyn all along. Just waiting to rescue the caster that got him caught after turning himself into a puppy. Karma at its finest. 

“How bad was it?” Natasha asks. And Steve realizes she’s an agent of Shield. The country’s intelligence agency probably responsible for setting up and hiding Bucky. 

“Pretty bad,” Bucky admits. “I didn’t think I could stop it.” 

“Have you been taking the meds Dr. Cho gave you?”

“Everyday.”

Steve peeks around the couch to listen to them talk. Natasha has a hand on Bucky’s knee. Bucky doesn’t flinch away from her. Still, it makes Steve want to hop up there and get between them. 

“You remember what Doctor Strange said, right?” she asks.

Bucky flicks an unamused gaze at her. “Yes. It’s not really them.”

That hand on his knee starts to caress. Steve almost growls. He doesn’t know why.

“Just my job to remind you, James.” She grins and nods. “And, yes. Any leftover residue of any victim’s spectres left behind have been exercised. There’s nothing left now but your own projection of them. And your time with the Wakandan Princess helped, right?”

Wakanda? That makes Steve poke his head out even more. If Bucky spent time in Wakanda he must’ve been much worse than Steve imagined. Wakanda is the most magically and technologically advanced country in the world. And they don’t just help anyone. 

Steve counts himself lucky that he fought side-by-side with their prince -- now king since the tragic death of his father -- T’Challa, during the war. Bucky, or, well, the Winter Soldier had been the prime suspect in King T’Chaka’s death. A great deal of evidence had supported it -- they even had his image on film. But it turned out to be a polymorph called Helmut Zemo -- one of Hydra’s operatives that controlled Bucky -- who’d been responsible for the death of the king. 

When the defense released that information, even T’Challa spoke on Bucky’s behalf, claiming that both he and his father were victims. Apparently, he’d gone one step further and took Bucky in to help him. 

“Yes,” Bucky answers Natasha’s question. “Shuri helped. A lot. I can… think on my own again. No one is in my mind except for me.” 

Natasha taps his knee before pulling her hand away. _That’s right_ , Steve thinks. _No touching my human_. 

“Exactly,” Natasha says to Bucky. “No one but you.”

“Oh.” Bucky blushes. “Right. Thanks, Tasha.” 

“S’what I’m here for. How about some of your tea before I leave?” 

Strange. Steve’s only ever seen Bucky drinking coffee, yet Natasha appears quite interested in having a cup of tea with him. Bucky even asks what kind she’d like as though he can offer her different choices. She asks for peppermint.

Bucky smiles softly at the suggestion and gestures for Natasha to go toward the kitchen first. Only when Natasha takes just a few steps, she stops, her gaze falling right in Steve. Which sees Steve whimpering and backing away. Silly, really. Natasha Romanov is one of the country's most skilled mentalists. She’ll easily be able to tell that he's not a normal dog if he gives her the chance to look.

“When did you get a dog?” she questions Bucky.

“Oh, that's Cap,” Bucky says. “I found him a few weeks ago.”

“You never said anything about getting a dog.”

“Yeah, well, um.” Bucky scratches the back of his head. “Clint said I didn't need to report every little thing I did. I'm a civilian.”

She turns a smile on him. “I know. I didn't mean to Shield necessarily. Maybe just to me.”

“Oh.” Bucky blushes. “I'm sorry. I didn't think of it, I guess.”

“Shield agent first, friend second.” She nods at her assessment. “Can I pet him?”

Bucky comes closer and, even though he's going to be picking him up to show him off to someone else, it doesn't matter. Steve is so excited that his tail starts wagging like crazy and he dances around in circles at Bucky's feet. 

“C’mere, you,” Bucky says, nuzzling his face into Steve's side and Steve does everything he can to give his best puppy kisses. “Cap, this is Tasha. My friend first. Personal Shield agent second.”

Natasha grins and reaches for fluffy ears. This is it, Steve realizes. His chance to be noticed and fix this whole blunder. He can get his life back. His body back. All he has to do is let Natasha see him for who he really is. 

Instead of doing that, Steve, without even thinking, puts a shield around himself. He hides behind it. Doesn't let Natasha see anything but fur and fluff, even if she does take a moment or two to eye him suspiciously. Because while the thought of having his life and body back is exhilarating, the thought of leaving Bucky puts a hole in his heart. 

He already ruined Bucky's life once. Okay, maybe that’s giving himself too much credit. Hydra had stolen him and warped his mind and turned him into their weapon long before Steve met him. 

That doesn't lessen the guilt. The desire to have made different decisions that could have resulted in a nicer life for someone who was just as much a victim as those he’d been forced to kill. 

“Maybe this is good for you, James,” Natasha says over their tea. Steve is sitting in Bucky's lap trying to lick sugar off his fingers. He's being a pain, he's sure, but the sugar tastes _so_ good. “I think having someone to look after might help.”

“Yeah, well.” Bucky jostles the top of Steve’s head. “I kinda love the little furball.”

‘ _What's not to love?’_ Steve yips. ‘ _I am adorable.’_

“He _is_ very lovable,” she agrees. “And this is coming from a bonafide cat lover.”

Insulted, yes insulted because who picks a cat instead of _him_ , Steve glares at her and growls. As a big, ferocious beast no doubt he can terrify even Natasha Romanov, number one mentalist in the country and Shield agent. Who, in her spare time, comforts and tends to a former assassin and powerful arcane. 

When her eyebrows lift, however, Steve rethinks that and buries himself in Bucky's embrace. 

‘ _Bucky, help me_ ,’ he whines. ‘ _She's being mean to me.’_

Bucky laughs and calls him a scaredy cat. Then remarks how one look from the deadly Black Widow can be quite frightening. 

“Stop tormenting my dog, he's a good boy.”

‘ _Ha! Yes!_ ’ Steve barks and wags his tail. ‘ _I_ knew _I was a good boy, I_ knew _it_!’

Laughing again, Bucky scratches under his chin.

“I swear,” he says, “sometimes it's like he can understand everything I say.”

“You don't say.” Natasha is looking at Steve again. Watching with that same suspicious shadow in her eyes as she had earlier. “I wonder why that is.”

Uh oh. 

Steve curls under Bucky’s protective hold. He can’t imagine that he’s done anything to tip Natasha off, but, well, given her talent and what she’s just said, he can’t be too careful. 

But if she has figured it out, why wouldn’t she say anything? That just makes no sense. She’s clearly fantastically protective of Bucky. Which is comforting. Steve’s glad he has someone who cares about him. Between Natasha, the Shield Agent and Clint the vet and, Steve's now guessing, retired Shield Agent, Bucky’s at least got people who will be there for him when he needs it. 

Still, Natasha doesn’t say another word that makes Steve think she has any idea he’s not really a puppy. 

“You haven’t been using your magic,” Natasha points out. This Steve can attest to. “Why?”

Bucky sighs and rests his chin in his hand. This makes him lean over Steve so Steve looks up at him, curious for this answer as well.

“All I can remember using it for is to do horrible things. I shouldn’t use it at all.”

“That’s not true,” she says. “Sure, you were _forced_ to use them to do Hydra’s bidding, but you have a rare gift, James. There’s no reason to turn your back on it completely just because of the past.” 

Bucky shrugs at this like he can’t think of something proper to say back. Steve wishes he would use his magic. It’d be something to see now that the poor guy isn’t lost and trapped behind a curse. 

No wonder Bucky’s never been able to sense the difference between Steve and a real puppy. He’s been actively trying _not_ to use his magic. Denying himself the talents and gifts that run naturally through his veins.

No doubt Bucky would’ve known within moments of being around Steve that he wasn’t really a puppy if he’d been letting his magic flow through him. Instead, he’s been blocking it. Other than the wards in an attempt to prevent nights like tonight, Bucky’s cut himself off from his magic completely. 

Hydra’s really taken so much from him. Steve, he fears, may have taken the rest. 

Bucky and Natasha finish up their tea and sit at the kitchen table talking for a little while longer. It’s a little after two in the morning when Natasha stands again and announces that she should get going. 

“I tell you what,” she says to Bucky as he walks her to the door. “I won’t mention any of this to the director if you promise to call me with _positive_ updates.”

“Positive?” Bucky twists his lips at her. “What kind of positive?”

“Oh, like, making a friend,” she clarifies. “Or doing something _fun_ for yourself.” 

Bucky scoffs. “And what does bringing a puppy home count as?”

Once again giving Steve a pet over his head, Bucky starts kissing the side of his face. Which would make Steve blush like crazy if he was his normal self. As it is, his tail takes over for him. Gives away his excitement. 

“I’d say that counts.” Natasha pets under Steve’s chin. He’ll take it. “But you never told me.”

She taps her cheek. Bucky smiles and Steve’s stomach does an unusual somersault when he leans in and kisses it.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’ll tell you next time I take in a stray.”

Chuckling, Natasha agrees to that deal and bids him a goodnight. Reminds him again to call with _any_ updates. Which, Steve supposes, means things like what happened tonight as well. 

“So, what do you say, Cap?” Bucky asks once he shuts and locks the door. “Gonna come help protect me from bad dreams?”

Oh, Steve is gonna do more than that. He’ll protect Bucky from his bad dreams. He’ll protect him from losing any more of the life that Steve accidentally had a hand it taking away from him, too. 

***

‘ _Bucky!_ ’ Steve barks before the alarm goes off in the morning. ‘ _Bucky, get up! Get up, get up, get up!_ ’ 

Groaning, Bucky pulls a pillow over his head and tries to shoo Steve away without actually moving. After the night he had, he probably just wants to sleep the whole day away. Not having any of this, Steve tugs on the corner of the pillow.

“Cap, what the hell?” Bucky grumbles. “What’re you--”

He doesn’t get to finish that. The very second Bucky’s face is showing, Steve starts licking all over. He’s not letting Bucky sleep all day today. Plus, it’s Saturday. He’s got no work to bug him awake. 

Bucky grunts and finally rolls over, the pillow falling from the bed despite his greatest efforts to grab onto it. 

“All right, all right,” he grumbles. “What’s the matter? You gotta go out?”

No, not really, but that’s the one sure fire way to get Bucky out of bed and out of the apartment for a while. Besides which, Steve’s got a plan. One he’s not going to back out of now. Which is why he turns around in circles over Bucky’s lap and hops and barks the most irritating, high-pitched bark he can manage. 

‘ _Come on, Bucky_!’ he shouts. ‘ _Let’s go_! _Get a move on_! _C’mon, c’mon, c’mon_!’ 

Huffing, Bucky heaves upright, careful not to let Steve suffer the same fate as his pillow. Instead, he scoops Steve up and sets him down on the floor before swinging his legs off the bed. 

“Come on, then.” He sighs and scrubs a hand over five days worth of scruff. “Let’s get you out.” 

Steve sits up straight, all regal and proud. Happy that, even as a puppy, he’s still got that look in his eye. The one Sam says is too irresistible to ignore. 

He’s trying to wait patiently while Bucky readies himself. Usually, that takes a matter of minutes and that’s because Bucky’ll just splash water on his face and decide that’s good enough. Today is no different. Bucky’s simply run a toothbrush through his mouth and pulls on a pair of sweats and doesn’t bother to change his shirt. He just throws a sweatshirt over it.

 _You’re not givin’ me much to work with, Bucky_ , Steve thinks as Bucky bends down to snap his leash on. 

Still, the second he hears the leash click, Steve almost forgets everything in a moment of extraordinary excitement. Because they’re going out! And going out is just the best, most awesome thing ever!

Clearing his throat with a little sneeze, Steve tries to compose himself. He’s got work to do this morning and no squirrel or bird or puddle of water is going to distract him today. But everything has to be perfectly executed to work. Steve’s sure he can do it, too. He was, after all, a Captain in the army. If he stopped the Winter Soldier, he can most definitely help him. Steve hopes. 

Which is why the very second they step outside and Bucky goes to light a cigarette, Steve takes off down the block. Just as he planned, Bucky's shocked enough that he loses the grip in the leash right away and gasps as he runs after him.

“Captain!” he shouts, so light on his feet that Steve can barely hear them hitting the concrete. “Captain, get back here! No!”

An impulse to listen to him, to that desperate cry behind him, has Steve almost aborting this whole cockamamie plan. Bucky already sounds so lost and broken, as if the idea of losing his puppy pal will just about shatter his heart. Steve, with every ounce of his own heart, can't bear the thought of hurting him any more than he already has.

So Steve makes sure not to lose him and not to get caught by anyone else. It's still early enough that the streets are fairly empty and Steve dashes into the park. 

Perfect. 

First person Steve sees is a man on his phone, yelling at, what sounds like, a customer service employee. No good. Next, there's a group of kids picking teams for basketball. Not gonna work. A pair of ladies are walking down the path. Hand-in-hand and laughing with each other. They definitely have merit. 

Then something flat and red catches Steve's eye and…

‘ _A frisbee_!’ he exclaims with a yelp and a swerve in that direction. He nearly falls all over himself as he tries to turn on a dime to go after it. 

‘ _I got it! I got it, I got it, I got it!’_

Only he doesn't have it. The big, huge blonde guy it was headed for catches it with one hand, midair. Bulging with muscles that ripple like ocean waves when he twists to throw the frisbee again, this guy is the epitome of sculpted by Angels. 

Big, blue eyes. Long, blonde hair tied back in a messy bun. Just the right amount of facial hair around his mouth. No shirt on and shorts just failing to be a little too tight for appropriate day wear even on an early mid-September morning. 

The second he spots Steve, however, he freezes, nearly tumbling over himself to not throw it.

“Hey, little guy,” Mr. Carved by Angels says. “Loki, look at this. We got a visitor.”

“Yes, Thor, that's just marvelous.”

Tall, lean, and also exquisitely beautiful, this Loki character comes closer, hands on his hips and head cocked to the side as though annoyed by the disruption. Unlike Thor, his muscles aren't as obvious, but they’re there under his loose fitting shirt and sweats. He wears his black hair long as well, though, his is tied back in a loose braid. 

“Are we done then?” he asks. “Are you quite finished humiliating me?”

Thor scoffs with a roll of his eyes. “You want me to do community theater with you, you can enter the ultimate frisbee tournament with me. Either that or ask Hela.”

Hands held out, Loki gives into that, more or less, and backs down before peering at Steve. 

“So.” He gestures to Steve. “What’re we doing with this mongrel?” Loki steps to the side and another of him forms. Duplicate magic, then. “Shall I dispose of him while continuing with you?”

Looks like Thor is about to reply to that with some sort of reprimand, but before he can, a pair of footsteps pad upon the grass. 

“Captain!” Bucky cries out as he gets there. “Cap, _please,_ don't--"

“Uh oh.” Thor quickly grabs the end of Steve’s leash so he can’t run again, even though Steve has no actual intentions on running. “It’s okay, I got ‘im.” 

Barely even out of breath, Bucky catches up and, for a second, Steve thinks he sees tears in his eyes. 

“Oh, thank you,” he breathes out. “Thank you so, so much.” Bucky bends down and picks Steve up. “Don’t ever do that again. God, you scared me. Don’t leave me like that, Cap.” 

‘ _Aw, Bucky, it’s okay, I wasn’t gonna really leave you_.’ His comforting comes out as a soft whine. ‘ _I’m still here_.’

From off to the side, Steve watches Loki’s clone disappear as he mumbles that Bucky is being over-dramatic about a dog. Steve, ready to leap out of Bucky’s arms to chomp down, tries to growl. Thankfully, Thor tells Loki to shut up for him.

“Shove off, Loki,” he grunts. “This is someone’s little guy.” 

“Fine, fine.” Loki waves him off. “Am I released then? Can I go?”

“Go on, go,” Thor says. “I’ll call you later. We can grab coffee and talk about that book.”

Waving over his shoulder, Loki takes off down the path as a new pair of clothes -- business casual with a sleek, designer walking cane -- appears around him. 

“Sorry about him,” Thor says directly to Bucky. “My brother’s not always the most affectionate type, but he has a soft side. Your puppy isn’t hurt, is he?”

“No.” Bucky shakes his head, shuffling his feet and keeping his gaze down. “He’s fine. Thank you for your help.”

“Pleasure’s mine,” he responds. “What’s his name?”

“Um… Captain. His name is Captain.” 

Bucky’s already shifting his weight. He’s looking around at everything and Steve can see the wheels in his mind turning. If he’d looked harder over these past few weeks, Steve might’ve been able to have put two and two together. When Bucky looks around like this, he’s planning out escape routes. 

This is what he does. It’s what he’s learned to do ever since the war. Lay low. Stay out of sight. Keep from being recognized. He’ll run if he has to, Steve’s sure of it. 

“He’s sure a cute fella,” Thor compliments and Steve perks up because how can anyone _not_ find him cute, thank you very much. “Can I pet him?”

“Oh… yeah… I guess that’s…”

Steve doesn’t exactly give him a choice. Those big, strong hands have gotta make for excellent petting and he’s wriggling around in Bucky’s arms so that Thor gets his chance. 

Thor laughs at this, big and whole-hearted, already reaching over to cover Steve’s head with his palm. 

“Looks like this little guy is one happy canine.” His smile reaches those bright blue eyes and makes his cheeks glow. “Must have a good owner.” 

“Well, I… I found him a few weeks ago and he…” Bucky takes a better hold on him. “I just fell in love with this adorable little face.” 

First making a kissy face at Steve -- which makes Steve just _need_ to lick his face -- Thor laughs and rubs behind Steve’s ear. Just like he thought, Thor’s hands are amazing. Magic fingers find that spot in seconds and Steve’s absolutely positive his leg’s never gonna stop kicking. 

“Can’t say that I blame you. I’d’ve taken him home if you hadn’t come along.” Thor changes his voice so that he sounds like he’s talking to a baby. “How could I? Just look at him.” 

Bucky grins. Good. Okay, that’s a start. Though Thor and Loki weren’t his original targets, Steve can work with this. 

“Yeah.” Bucky nods. “Pretty much. Well, thanks again, I--”

Oh, no, no. Nope, Steve’s not about to let him do this. Twisting and turning, he manages to get out of Bucky’s hold. The second he hits the ground, Steve rolls back to his feet and circles around them both so that the leash pulls them together. 

Their bodies collide, Bucky hitting into a wall of muscle and using his left hand to steady himself. At the same time, Thor catches his wrist so that he doesn’t fall backward and spill to the ground. 

“Shit!” Bucky exclaims. “Cap, what’re you… I’m sorry, he’s never… um, I didn’t mean to...” 

The conflict runs through him quick and hard. Bucky’s clearly not sure how to handle this. Dislodge his wrist from Thor’s strong, but tender hold or untangle his legs to step away or keep apologizing for what Steve’s just done. 

Only Thor is clearly not put off by the situation. In fact, he appears to find it rather funny; if his head rolling back with laughter is anything to go by. 

“Rumbunctious, isn’t he?” 

Bucky, face bright as a tomato, shakes his head as he still fights with figuring out what to do first. 

“He’s never done this…” Bucky finally decides to push the leash down so he can step back. “I’m really sorry.” 

“No, no, it’s fine. Not every day I get approached by the world’s cutest puppy and his adorable owner.” 

“But he-- oh.” Bucky drops his gaze, pink rushing up to his ears. “Oh, I…” And then Bucky goes and giggles and if Steve’s heart hasn’t grown two sizes, nothing’ll ever make it. 

Still holding onto Bucky’s wrist, Thor clears his throat and finally let's go. He hands his hand out then. 

“How about we do this a little more properly?” he asks. “I’m Thor.”

“Oh, I’m… um…” Bucky fits his hand with Thor’s. “I’m James.”

“James, it’s nice to meet you. I wonder, if you’re not done with your walk with Captain yet, would you mind a little bit of company,” he says. “Just in case he runs off again.” 

Bucky’s eyes light up with surprise. As though the idea of being asked such a simple thing is the highlight of his life. Actually, it probably shouldn’t be so surprising. Hydra held him captive for years. Positivity and compliments weren’t really high on Hydra’s priority list. 

No wonder he keeps himself so closed off. So guarded. It’s the only way he’s ever known to be. 

Well, not anymore. Steve is determined to help him make a new friend and he’s not letting Thor get away. 

To prove his point, Steve jumps up against Thor’s leg. He’ll slobber all over the both of them if he has to. Thor just laughs again and Bucky, chuckling and clearly holding back, nods. 

“I guess we’ve got no choice,” he says. “Doesn’t look like Cap is ready to go back inside and he seems to’ve deemed you worthy.” 

‘ _Yes_!’ Steve barks as he jumps between them. ‘ _Come on! I know the best ways_!’

He chews on the leash between where it’s attached to him and the end of it in Bucky’s hand. Crushing it between his might jaw, he tugs. 

Thor laughs. “I guess that means we’re headed that way?” 

“I guess so.” Bucky shrugs. “He’s the boss.” 

Excited and proud, Steve lets go of the leash and leads the way because, _yes, that’s right, who’s the boss,_ I’m _the boss; Captain Steve Rogers_. 

What Steve doesn’t expect, no not at all, is Thor somehow entices Bucky to spend nearly the whole morning with him. Right there in the park. After he pulls out his own pair of sweats and a zip-up hoodie from his gym bag, they walk for almost three miles in the morning, neither of them tiring or complaining. 

The only reason they stop is the rumbling in Thor’s belly. Bucky, who hasn’t eaten either, agrees that it might be time to get some food. Only Thor asks if he wants to grab a cup of coffee together. When Bucky explains that he’s got no money on him -- he didn’t exactly plan on this little detour -- Thor waves him off and jogs to the deli right across the street. 

While he runs off to do that, Bucky starts looking around again in that getting-ready-to-make-an-escape way. Which is no good. He and Thor are getting along and there’s no reason that he should miss this opportunity to be friends with someone. 

“What’d you think, Cap?” he asks when he crouches down to pet him. “Think I should… I dunno, try to make a friend? Nat keeps saying I should socialize more. So do the doctors. And he seems pretty nice, right?” Tears glisten in his eyes. “It’s okay, right? Even though I probably don’t deserve it?”

 _Oh, Bucky_. Steve jumps up a little to lean on his forearm. He licks his nose. _I’m sorry I did this to you_. 

At least the puppy kiss makes him laugh.

Thor returns just a few minutes later with two cups of coffee and breakfast sandwiches. They find themselves a nice park bench to sit on and make themselves comfortable. 

They’re enjoying their food and drinks and -- since Bucky can’t resist when Steve makes his eye so big and gives him one of his most pitiful whines -- feeding him some of the sandwiches as well. He and Thor make pleasant conversation, though, Steve notices how Bucky deflects several questions about himself and keeps the focus mainly on Thor. 

Turns out, Thor can use elemental magic, specifically lightning. He displays this by spreading his fingers and showing off with his own little electrical storm between them. It is quite fascinating. And beautiful. Even Bucky is taken with it. 

But Thor keeps finding ways to touch Bucky and, for some reason, Steve’s not sure he likes that. It’s innocent enough. A hand on his shoulder when he laughs. A clap on his thigh when he makes a joke. A brush under his chin just because. 

While Steve isn’t sure how he feels about those touches, Bucky appears to be soaking them up. Steve wonders when he’s been touched kindly last. Certainly not by anyone in Hydra. And anytime someone else has tried to touch him, he’s shied away. 

Not with Thor. With Thor, Bucky doesn’t wince or cringe. He doesn’t pale. Doesn’t look ill. The opposite, actually. Bucky looks like he wants touch back. 

Though Steve is quite sure Bucky has no interest whatsoever in showing Thor--or anyone else for that matter, even him--his brand of magic, Thor accidentally knocks his cup of coffee off the bench. And Bucky just reactions. Just before the liquid would hit the ground, Bucky cups his hand as though he means to catch it, even being too far away for such a thing. All the coffee headed for the dirt stops mid-air, and, slowly, Bucky turns his hand over and guides the drink back into its container. 

“Wow!” Thor exclaims as he picks up his cup, inspecting the coffee inside. “I’ve never seen telekinesis done with such precision before! That was incredible, James.” 

“Oh, um.” Bucky scratches the back of his head. “It’s okay.” 

A blush blossoms through Bucky’s cheeks. It smells of magic now, and Steve wonders if this is the first time Bucky’s ever displayed his powers like that. 

“I should go,” Bucky mumbles as that blush begins to fade. “I should get this guy home.” 

‘ _Hey!_ ’ Steve yaps. ‘ _Don't blame me_!’

“Oh.” Thor looks thoroughly disappointed. “You're sure?”

Bucky smiles and gestures to himself with a halfhearted shrug. 

“I never expected to be out at all. I'm sort of a mess.” 

Thor grins back. “A _hot_ mess, maybe.”

Another blush fills Bucky's face. He's not quick enough to hide it in his palms. A part of Steve wants to laugh. He loves it whenever Bucky gets all bashful and Thor’s been doing it all day. 

But it's different this time. The reason for all the blushing is because Thor might be _flirting_ with him. Which is just… no. Steve doesn't know _why_ this is putting ash in his belly and making him want to get between the two of them and act as a ball of fluff barrier, but it is.

“You know, I was thinking,” Thor says before Bucky lowers his hands. “if all that’s keeping you from staying is a shower and fresh clothes… maybe you wouldn’t be opposed to having dinner with me tonight.” 

_What_?! 

Steve hops to his feet and _does_ get between them now. This isn’t at all what he had in mind. Bucky’s not supposed to be asked out on a _date_ ; he’s just supposed to make friends! Baby steps. Small. This is… too much, too soon. 

And who does this _Thor_ guy think he is? Awful forward of him to ask Steve’s human out on a date when they’ve only known each other for a few hours. 

‘ _No, way, Bucky_ ,’ he growls. ‘ _Say no. You can’t--_ ’

“Really?” Bucky asks. “You wanna… have dinner with me?” 

Steve snaps his gaze to Bucky, the traitor, shocked that he’s even considering this. 

“Sure.” Thor shrugs. “Can’t argue with a guy with such good tastes in pets.” 

_Oh, yeah, sure, flatter me to get to him._

Blushing more, Bucky tries to say something a few times and gets only the start of a few incomplete sentences out of his mouth. 

“Is that… a no?” Thor asks. “Am I way off the mark here?” He holds his hands up. “If I am, I’m sorry. I’ll totally back off.” 

“I didn’t say that!” Bucky says urgently. 

‘ _Bucky! How could you?’_

“Oh. Well.” Thor clears his throat. “You don’t have to answer now if you don’t want to. How about I give you my number? And you can gimme a call?”

To that, Bucky inhales deeply, must find courage there, and nods. “You know what? Why not?”

Thor lights up with a huge, toothy grin, eyes shining and cheeks all rosy. He pulls out his phone and quickly gives Bucky his number. Before parting, Thor is sure to tell him that there’s no pressure or hard feelings if he says no or just doesn’t call. Reluctantly, Steve has to admit that maybe Thor’s not so bad. 

When Bucky gets home, clearly trying not to hurry and not talking to Steve the way he usually does, he slams up against the door and lets out an amazed laugh. Steve watches from the floor as he begins to pace. After a few minutes of this, Bucky snatches up his phone and makes a call. 

“No, no.” Bucky shakes his head to whatever he’s greeted with. “I’m okay. Sort of. Just… Tasha, I think I just… got asked out on a date.” 

Steve sighs and goes to the kitchen for a drink of water. Next to the cage, which is still set up since Bucky’s tried to put him in there several other times, is his plushy dragon. He grabs it by the neck and shakes it around. Makes sure it’s still nice and dead. So far, so good. Maybe Bucky’ll wanna play with him now. 

Toy clenched between his teeth, he trots back into the living room, tail wagging and with one objection. Playtime!

Dropping the dragon at Bucky’s feet, Steve looks up at him and barks. Then barks again because Bucky doesn’t respond. Steve has to bark a _third_ time just to get Bucky’s eyes to flick down at him. Apparently, whatever Natasha has to say to him is utterly fascinating and has him glowing. Steve even needs to bark one more time for the guy to _actually_ pay attention to him and when he does, he just reaches down and flings the dragon away. 

Which is just insane. That’s not how they play dragon. Bucky’s supposed to hold onto the toy so Steve can kill him again. If Bucky’s so preoccupied, Steve is just gonna have to remind him how to play the game.

Halfway back to Bucky, with the dragon in his mouth again, Bucky says something that stops him right in his tracks. 

“Okay then. I’ll see you at six.” 

Steve halts. The dragon falls from his mouth. He just stares at Bucky as he gets off the phone and smiles at it. 

Then, wait… was that no longer Natasha that Bucky was talking to? Was that…?

“Holy shit,” Bucky whispers. “I’m… going on a date.” 


	4. Chapter 4

Bucky spends the rest of the afternoon getting ready for this date of his while Steve just sits in the corner, watching. He hates this. It’s silly that he hates this, but he hates it nonetheless. To make it worse, he has no idea why this is bothering him so much. This is what he _wanted_. To help Bucky with his social life. Give him a boost in confidence. 

There’s no reason Bucky should be a prisoner. He spent too many years being one already. 

But the idea of him going out on a date just makes everything feel so wrong. A betrayal of some sort. Only Bucky’s not doing anything wrong. Steve should be _happy_ for him, not moping as he follows him from room to room hoping for a little attention. He wonders, maybe, if it’s a dog thing. 

So, really, all Steve’s left to do is to hope that everything goes well tonight. Bucky sure is excited. Nervous, too. More nervous than excited, he’s picked up his phone and then talked himself out of cancelling more than once now. 

Still, for all the nerves, he takes one hell of a shower -- almost like trying to make up for the ones he _should’ve_ taken but didn’t -- and he shaves and he even gives himself a haircut. Magic, that last one. Bucky stood in front of his bathroom mirror, looking simply delicious in only a towel wrapped around his waist -- and sucked in a deep, steadying breath before running fingers through his hair. The very second his hand swept through the ends, it was shorter. Not by much -- he’s still able to throw it back in that sexy bun -- but it’s neat and even and taken care of now. Bucky even smiled at his reflection. Steve swooned from the floor. 

Then he shook his head out and padded away from the bathroom because what was _that_ all about. Making heart-eyes at the Winter Soldier? 

_Don’t be ridiculous, Steve,_ he thinks. _It’s just… a dog thing. It_ has _to be._

No other explanation for it, really. He hadn’t suddenly developed a crush on Bucky Barnes -- the adorable, shy, sweet, generous, smart, talented, puppy-rescuing ex-assassin. So, okay, Steve worries over him and, yeah, he finds him sinfully beautiful. So what if Steve’s heart drums pleasantly whenever he smiles or looks at him or plays with him. And it means nothing that the thought of never seeing him again makes Steve want to shrivel up and just _cry_. 

None of that necessarily means that he… it didn’t have to be… it isn’t…

_Oh shit_ , Steve sighs and plops down by his empty food dish in the kitchen. _This is not good_. 

 

Before actually changing or anything -- since it’s still too early to leave for his _date_ \-- Bucky starts straightening up the place. He makes his bed and tidies up the bathroom and is sure the dishes are cleaned out of the sink. Which means he also starts sweeping. 

“Wow,” he mumbles after he dumps the second mess from the dustpan into the garbage. “Didn’t even realize how much of a mess puppy fur makes.” 

‘ _Hey_ ,’ Steve grumbles, coming out of the kitchen so he can watch. ‘ _What’s_ that _supposed to mean_?’

Bucky makes his way back to the living room and hovers over the couch. He just stands there, staring at it with his hands on his hips and deep in thought.

Not explaining anything about it, Bucky sighs and seems to come to a decision. He goes to the closet to fetch a vacuum. One Steve didn’t even know he had. It’s got a big, long barrelled body and a long hose and lots of extensions. He pulls off the hose and turns on the vacuum and--

_Holy shit_!

It starts up with a loud, vicious growl that _booms_ through Steve’s ears and he needs to get the hell out of there before that horrible, evil monster comes after him. Steve slips and slides all over the floor trying to get to the safety of the kitchen. His paws skitter across the linoleum as he rounds the table so he can hide behind it.

Then, he realizes he’s left Bucky out there with it and, damn it, he can’t let that thing eat Bucky, he’s got to _do_ something. Steve runs back to the edge of the kitchen and tries to warn him.

‘ _Bucky_!’ he shouts. ‘ _Bucky, watch out_! _Get out of there_! _It’s gonna hurt you_!’

But the thing -- which turns out to be just a vacuum, that’s right, duh -- doesn’t eat Bucky. Of course it doesn’t. Cause it’s just a stupid household appliance. Something Steve has at a closet at home. How humiliating. 

“Aw, I’m sorry,” Bucky says and switches it off. “I didn’t mean to scare you, bud.”

Steve whimpers. ‘ _Just put that thing away_.’

He does, then. Bucky puts the vacuum away and Steve inches out of the kitchen. For a second, he thinks maybe he should go to the closet just to make sure it’s really locked up for good, but remembers, again, that it’s just a vacuum and, instead, flops to the side to lay down. 

Bucky, chuckling, reaches down and scratches Steve’s snout. Lifting his head a bit, Steve nibbles on metal fingers before collapsing again.

_Yeah, yeah. Go on, keep getting ready for your_ date _and ditch me. And why’re you cleaning anyway? What do you think is gonna happen?_

Of course, Bucky has no way to answer that and, anyway, it isn’t any of Steve’s business. Bucky can do what he wants, with who he wants. Steve just… doesn’t really want to know about it. And he _especially_ doesn’t want to see it.

Soon enough, the afternoon’s gone by -- with Steve mostly sulking in the kitchen -- and Bucky is getting ready to leave. 

First checking to make sure that both of Steve's bowls are full -- Steve hasn't touched his food just in case Bucky leaves forever -- Bucky checks over himself. He looks good. Nice black jeans. Adorable black shirt covered in daisies. Facial hair all neat now instead of looking like a werewolf just starting to sprout fur. He's tied his hair back and then undoes it. Over and over, finally settling on letting it hang loose. 

He grabs his phone and cigarettes and keys. Looks like he might bail one last time before finally just going to the door. 

“Okay,” he murmurs to himself. “Okay, I think I’m… I think I’m good. Yeah.” He nods. “I can do this. I can.” Hand around the doorknob, Bucky squeezes his eyes shut and takes in a heavy breath. “You can do this, Barnes.” His eyes find Steve. Bucky gives him a worried smile. “Wish me luck, Cap.” 

Ears perking, Steve tilts his head at him. Wishes he could ask him to stay. These big, weepy eyes aren’t gonna keep him this time. And Steve doesn’t want to be selfish, so he stands and wags his tail for Bucky. Best he can. Turns out, it’s actually rather difficult when he’s not really happy.

Without another word, without any further second-guessing, Bucky hurries and lets himself out. 

_Good luck, Bucky_ , Steve thinks as soon as the door closes behind him. 

Then he hears the lock turn and panics. What if… holy shit, what if he never comes back? If he never comes back then Steve’s gonna _starve_. Even worse, no one’ll be around to play with him! Oh, no. No, no, this just isn’t good. This is no good at all. 

‘ _Bucky_!’ he barks. Scratches at the door with his thick, sharp claws just in case he needs to dig his way out of here. ‘ _Bucky, come back_! _Bucky_!’

Rushing back to the T.V., Steve checks the time. He just can’t believe Bucky’s left him for _hours_ already. He looks at the clock. 

_Oh. It’s only been a minute._

Well. This is gonna be one hell of a night. 

Steve’s not sure how long he waits for. Could be hours. Could be days. All Steve knows it that he’s _bored_ as he sits there right in front of the door waiting for Bucky to come home. Everytime he hears a sound, he jumps to his paws in the hopes of it being his human. 

Moving from room to room, Steve tries to sniff out something to do. After once again making sure that dragon is still dead, he makes his way into Bucky’s room. It’d be nice to be able to get up on the bed, but no matter how hard he tries to jump, he just can’t reach the top. He does manage to pull the blanket half off the bed, though. That’s a few minutes of fun. 

He can’t get up on the couch, either. Stupid furniture being so big. Steve stands on his back legs and chomps down on the cushion just to show it what he thinks of it. Which, actually, is kinda fun. It’s stuck up there and won’t come down and Steve’ll show it who’s boss. 

Steve tugs and bites and scratches at it. After some work, a bit of stuffing falls to the floor. That’s right. Because Steve is the mightiest and no couch is a match for him. He can do this. He can dismantle the whole thing and then there won’t be anything left to this couch at all!

_Oh, wait_ … Steve lets go and looks around him. At the fluffy mess that’s snowed down to the floor. _Oops…_

Maybe ripping a hole in the corner of Bucky’s couch isn’t the best way to occupy his time. Steve abandons that and goes back to the door. Figures it’s probably safer to just wait here until Bucky gets back. 

When Steve hears someone out in the hall, he sits up again. His ears pick up. Maybe that’s Bucky! Is it… no. No, it’s… oh, wait! Footsteps come closer to the door and Steve would know that sound anywhere.

‘ _It’s Bucky_!’ he barks. ‘ _Bucky, you’re home_!

Tail wagging like crazy, Steve starts jumping up and down turning in circles. The door opens and Bucky steps in again. He’s on the phone and has a paper bag in his hand. Thor isn’t with him. 

’ _Tell me everything that happened!I_ Steve charges forward and backward again. _Did he hurt you? Was he mean to you? You smell like him. Did he get too close? Do I need to take him down cause just say that word and I will; I will, Bucky, I swear it, I will, I will!_ ’

“Hey, you,” Bucky says as he comes in. “Miss me?”

‘ _Yes_! _Yes, you were gone_ forever!’ Steve hops against his leg and jumps around by his feet. ‘ _I thought you were never ever ever coming back_!’

“No, not you, Tasha,” Bucky says, obviously speaking to Natasha on the phone. “I just got in.” He makes his way straight to the kitchen. “You practically _demanded_ that I call you when I got him. So I did.” Whatever Natasha says makes him fold in a smile. “It was… nice.” 

Bucky goes on to tell her about his date. How Thor showed up with a flower -- which Bucky takes out of the bag -- and then took him to a great little restaurant where they sat outside and could watch the sunset. How they danced. How he walked him back to his place and kissed him goodnight. 

“He was sweet about it,” Bucky tells her. “Not forward or demanding. He just… leaned in a pressed a kiss.” 

Steve must be a glutton for punishment or something. Instead of just _not_ listening to this, he sits there and soaks up every little bit of it. It's crazy. But Bucky looks so happy. Those beautiful eyes, which hold so many vast secrets, glitter like the only two stars left in Steve's existence. 

“I don't know,” Bucky says eventually. “I think I should keep it slow. It's been… so long since I felt anything like this.”

They spend a few more minutes on the phone before they hang up. Bucky, hands flat on the table, hangs his head with a little laugh puffing from his lips. His gaze flicks to Steve who, he just can’t help it, jumps up and goes over to him. Bucky’s barely paid him any attention all day. He misses him. 

“I could’t’ve done it without you, buddy,” he murmurs. Crouches down pets him over and over. “Thank you.”

Damn it, how can Steve justify being upset about any of this when he puts it that way. If what he really feels for Bucky is any kind of crush or… and Steve really doesn’t want to use the word love, but… his heart just grows whenever he looks at him and hurts whenever he thinks about not being near him… then the only thing Steve wants it for him to be happy. Which he does. Besides, it’s not like he can _date_ him, being stuck as a puppy and all. This is all just getting too weird. 

“Hey, I got you something.”

_‘And just what the hell do you expect me to do with that thing?’_ Steve barks when Bucky pulls a big, white bone out of the paperbag. _‘I don’t want it.’_

“You want it, Cap?” Bucky asks, that big, goofy smile on his face. “Huh? You want it?”

If Steve could get away with biting this guy in the ankles, he would do it. But that might result in getting put back into the crate again and he’d like to very much be spared that humiliation. Besides, he already _said_ he didn’t want the damn bone. 

“C’mere, you.” 

Oh, no. No, no, no. Steve turns on his paws and tries to run away, but since hardwood floors have recently turned into enemy number one, he slips and slides and Bucky scoops him up. Plops down with him on the couch and holds the bone up to his nose.

_‘Well, I’m not gonna_ smell _it if that’s what you want.’_

Although, Steve does catch a whiff of it and the thing smells kinda tantalizing. Nostrils flaring, he moves in and starts sniffing it. Up and down, across. This way and that way. Wow. Wow, wow, _wow_. This things smells _great_. Steve’s already drooling. He goes to lick it and _no_. No, what? He’s _not_ going to chew on a bone, he’s got to draw a line _somewhere_ and this is going to be it. He’s already like a dog with a bone in one way. He’s not _literally_ about to become one. 

“Aw, whassa’ matter?” Bucky jostles him a little. Pets under his chin and oh. _Oh_ , yeah, that’s the spot, Bucky, keep doing that. “You don’t want it?”

Steve yips and nibbles on the finger that was just giving pretty good chin scratches. Isn’t that what he’s been trying to say this whole time? Usually, Bucky’s pretty good at this whole listening thing. 

“Oh, c’mon,” Bucky presses. “You know you want it.”

_‘Do not.’_

“Come on, who’s a good boy?”

_‘Bucky, I do not… what? Wait… is it me?’_

“Who’s a good boy?” Bucky holds the bone out in front of him again and this time, Steve almost takes it, but just before his teeth would sink in, Bucky pulls it away and chuckles. “Are you a good boy? Huh?”

_‘I… I think so? Am I? Am I the good boy?’_

“Are you a good boy, buddy? Hm? Who’s a good boy?”

_‘Oh my god, Bucky, please, tell me if I’m the good boy.’_

“Is Captain a good boy?”

Steve barks, as loud as his little puppy lungs can and lunges for the bone now, but Bucky still won’t let him get it. He just laughs and pets his belly.

_‘For the love of_ God _, Bucky, let know if I’m the good boy_!”

“Yes, you are!” Bucky laughs. “Yes, you _are_ a good boy!”

Finally, Bucky gives Steve the bone and Steve rolls over with it on the couch. Despite the thing being almost bigger than him, Steve does what he can to get his paws around the whole thing and starts chewing on it the best he can.

_‘Yes! Yes, I knew it!’_ he barks with his mouth over the top of the bone. _‘Take that every other canine out there!_ I’m _the good dog!_ Me _! Me, me, me!_ ’ 

“Wait… what…” Bucky’s bending down. He comes back up with some fluff in between his fingers. “What happened to my couch?”

Instead of answering that with any sort of whine or bark, Steve just jumps onto Bucky’s lap and chews on his brand new bone. Munching down and trying to crack it.

“You are so lucky you’re cute.” 

Yeah, yeah, does Steve know it. 

***

During the next few weeks, Steve finds himself in a most awkward position. Now that it’s dawned on him that he has feelings for Bucky, watching him crack out of the armor he’s kept himself hidden in leaves Steve between something of a rock and a hard place. On the one hand, Bucky getting out more is a good thing. Great, even. 

Instead of falling back into bed after his first alarm, Bucky actually dresses, gets all stretched out, and takes Steve for a walk in the park. Which is fantastic cause the park is awesome and Steve can’t be more delighted to run with Bucky in the park. 

“Okay,” Bucky said the first time they did it. “I can do this.” 

Steve, who was too busy chasing a bunch of pigeons on the path, stopped just short of the leash pulling taut. 

‘ _What?’_ Steve barked. ‘ _What’re we doing, Bucky?’_

Taking in a deep breath, Bucky nodded to himself and then started off down the path. When Steve realized what they were doing, he couldn’t contain his excitement. 

‘ _Yes! We’re running_!’ Steve got out in front of him, taking the lead. _‘I know the way, Bucky, follow me_!’ 

It was glorious. Just Steve and his human, running through the park -- Steve didn’t even bother with any other dogs that happened to wander down the path -- he was just so happy. Plus, Bucky out and about during such an early hour made it even better. Steve wondered if that meant he was starting to feel better. Wanted to get out more. Spread his wings. 

If so, Steve would be more than happy to accompany him. Encourage him. Support him. Might be kinda hard as a dog and all, but he’d do it as best he could. Even with fur and paws and a wet nose. 

The early hour made it even better. The brisk morning air. The coffee scents. The golden hues in the sky. Everything made it that much more beautiful.

“Hey! James! You made it!”

Then Steve stopped dead in his tracks. Coming toward them on the path, dressed in only running pants, was Thor. Even Steve’s mouth went dry. From his spot at Bucky’s feet, he could see his steel-blue eyes become swallowed in black. Really, Steve couldn’t blame him. 

_Ugh_ , Steve thought. _Doesn’t this guy own a shirt_? _It’s_ September _for gods’ sake._

Thor was a literal walking mass of muscle carved out of heaven. Seriously, Steve could see the lights of angels glowing behind him. Okay, maybe that was just the morning sun, but it really looked like the illumination of an actual god. 

“Uh, yeah.” Bucky answered as Thor approached. “I thought, why not?”

“And you brought, Cap!” Thor’s enthusiasm did little to cheer Steve up. Even when he bent down to bet an enormous hand over his tiny head. “Hello again, little fella.” 

Steve, though he wanted to very badly, held back a ferocious growl and moved away from him. 

“Aw, I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t hurt ‘im.” 

“Nah.” Bucky crouched down next and once he was close, Steve jumped into his arms. “He’s just a big baby.” 

_‘Hey!_ ’ Steve sulked. ‘ _Am not_!’ 

Bucky rubbed a hand over his head. “See?” 

Happy just to be near him, even with Thor there, Steve nuzzled against him. The behavior, he’s sure, wasn’t very dog like, but he didn’t care. He liked being cuddled with Bucky. So very much. 

“So, are you still up for this?” Thor asked. “Or did you change your mind?”

“No, no.” Bucky straightened. “I’m good. We’re…” He looked down at Steve and Steve couldn’t help it. His tail started wagging. “We’re good.” 

They were good that day. They’ve been good every other day since then when they meet to go for their morning run together. 

Thor’s taken Bucky out on several other dates. After each and every one of them, Bucky’s returned with a huge smile on his face. He also, as promised, calls Natasha to give her a review. He’s had her over a few times, too. 

“Okay, tell me everything. And here.” Sometimes this means she comes with things like nail polish or hair accessories. “To keep us busy.” 

Some nights, Natasha’s nails -- fingers and toes -- end up perfectly painted with bright pink nail polish while Bucky’s hair is done up in complicated, intricate braids. Whenever Bucky sits at Natasha’s feet while she does his hair, Steve makes himself comfortable on his lap. When she slings her foot over his shoulder so he can do her toes, he scoots off so that he can maneuver his arms the right way. 

“It’s nothing serious,” he tells her. “Not even really… _exclusive_ , I guess. I… I’ve made that pretty clear and he’s never pushed.”

“Which means _what_ exactly?”

“Mm.” He holds his hand out for hers so he can do her nails. “I dunno. We’re friends. Who sometimes kiss?”

“So you’re friends with benefits?”

Bucky shakes his head. “I don’t even think that.”

“ _You_ are playing hard to get.”

“I am not!” Bucky laughs. “But I am having fun, Tasha. A lot of fun.”

“Yeah?” She brushes his hair out. “Tell me about this fun.”

So Bucky tells her about how Thor’s taken him out to the Natural History Museum and the Botanical Gardens and even dancing. Natasha, like Steve, had been a little surprised at that one. Dancing, with so many people around. With all that touching. 

“It was an early night,” Bucky admits. “I didn’t do so well. But I did it. I used to love dancing, y’know. 

“And he’s treating you right?” she always asks. “You know, just say the word and he’s gone.”

“My gods, Tasha.” He shakes his head. “Do you have to be so extreme?”

She’d been doing his hair when he asked that. She smiled and added an extra braid. It made him look extra cute. 

“I do. No one hurts you. Not on my watch.” 

That never fails to make Bucky smile. Still, he shrugs her off, because no. No, Thor is never anything but sweet and polite and very charming. 

“He took me sailing tonight,” Bucky tells her. “In the harbor. He used his own wind.” 

“And what about you?” Natasha asks. “Have you been using any magic?”

“Mm.” Bucky plays with his fingers. “A little. He thinks it’s just telekinesis.” 

That one’s news to Steve. At home, Bucky’s still not using any of his magic. Probably why he still hasn’t noticed anything different about Steve. Or maybe it’s because he’s still not looking for anything different. Steve could always make himself known to Natasha whenever she’s around. He’s thought about it. He’s even come _really_ close to doing it. He just can’t bring himself to do it though. Not yet. If this is his penance to what he’s done to Bucky then so be it. 

Because, yes, Bucky’s having fun with Thor and, sure, he’s opening up more to Natasha and Clint, too, but he’s still using Steve as his little fluffy buffer. Steve will give that to Bucky. He deserves it.

Even if that means having to suffer through watching him and Thor together this night when Bucky’s invited him back inside his place. 

Thor had come to pick Bucky up earlier. Came to the door with daisies. That was a little joke between them because the shirt Bucky wore on their first date had that particular flower all over it. Even Steve had to admit that the gesture was cute. 

The daisies are on the kitchen table now. Bucky had to conjure a vase for them since he didn’t have one of his own. Something tells Steve these flowers will be lasting a long time.

“Well.” Bucky opens the door to let them in when they get back from dinner. “This is it. Not much, but…” 

“It’s perfectly fine,” Thor answers. “Suitable to your needs, right?”

Bucky smiles. “Yeah. Um, I have some beer. You want?”

He does want. Bucky tells him to make himself comfortable on the couch and they both end up on it with frosty bottles of beers. For a little while, they just sit there talking. About nothing in particular, but Thor had the uncanny ability to make Bucky laugh until there’re tears in his eyes. They even end up in some more serious topics of conversations.

“I have a complicated relationship with my brother,” Thor tells him. “But we’re close regardless. He’s adopted and sometimes I think that makes him feel like he’s less of a brother than he should be, but it’s not true at all. I think the world of him. We have an older sister. _That_ relationship is even more complicated.”

Bucky nods. “I know a little something about complicated family relationships.”

“Oh?” Thor asks. “You have siblings then?”

“Uh.” Bucky scratches the back of his head, lip sucked into his mouth. Steve knows that look. He didn’t mean to say that. “Just… a sister. But it’s…”

“Complicated,” they say together.

That, at least, sees Bucky chuckling softly. A sweet smile pulls up on his mouth and Thor grins back, slipping a hand over Bucky’s and giving a gentle squeeze. 

"I've a degree in business management," Thor says. "Father wanted me to take over the business. For years it's what I wanted for myself. I used to think of it as a kingdom. But things changed. Now I'm not so sure what I want to do."

Fiddling with his fingers, Bucky takes a sip of his beer, swishes what remains at the bottom of the bottle around and then finishes the rest. He rolls the bottle between his hands and does everything he can not to look at Thor. He nibbles on his lip. Tugs on his ear. Steve's seen this look, too. While they've been out together and people are trying to talk to him. Bucky normally does this right before he excuses himself. Only he can't really do that here. He _can_ , of course. But even if he went to the kitchen or the bedroom, Thor will still be waiting here when he got back. His only other options are to get rid of Thor or to reply. 

Heart already split up the middle, Steve allows that jagged crack to splinter even further when he slowly moves closer to Bucky and simply nudges his ankle. Not for attention. Not to be pet. Not for him. Just pull him back into the moment. Here. With Thor.

"Um, I used to study English Lit," he says. "I wanted to do something creative."

Thor asks, "Were you unable to finish?"

"N-no. Well. The war happened. And I..." Bucky wipes his fingers across his eyes. Like maybe he's getting ready for a confession of some sorts. "I..." He swallows hard and sighs. "I was in it and--"

"You know," Thor interrupts. "We don't have to talk about this if you don't want to. If it makes you more comfortable, we can talk about--" There's already a small grin twitching on the corners of Bucky's mouth. "--say, the time my brother turned himself into a snake, knowing that I like snakes, and when I picked him up to admire him he turned back and was all 'ah! it's me!' and then he stabbed me.

For a second, Bucky just blinks before holding back what appear to be absolute hysterics. "He... he stabbed you?"

"Oh, yes." Thor nods. "I told you, our relationship is very complicated. Mind you, he tried to stab me with a paperclip he made to _look_ like a dagger. Our mother grounded him for a month anyway. I remember, he looked like he was gonna burst into tears when she said she was disappointed in him using his magic like that. He always was a mama's boy."

"Did he stop using his magic like that?" Bucky asks. "After that happened?" 

Thor snorts. "Not even a little. But I tell you, as complicated as our relationship might be, I'd never let anyone hurt him."

Bucky reaches out and takes Thor's hand. Closing his eyes, Steve tries to pretend he got them closed quick enough that he didn't have to see. The image is already burned into his mind, though. Bucky tenderly taking one of Thor's big hands into both of his. His thumb running across his knuckles. A soft whine escapes Steve's throat. No one seems to notice. 

"I bet," Bucky says, "he'd never let anyone hurt you either." 

Someone clears their throat. Steve opens his eyes and sees the two of them much closer together now. Bucky's blushing. His free hand is touching his lips. Behind his fingers, he's hiding a smile. The twist to Steve's stomach tells him the obvious. Thor and Bucky just kissed. Right here. Somewhere in the back of Steve's mind, he knows he should _leave_. In more ways than one. For now, at least, get the hell out of this room. Give them their privacy. And yet, he just can't. Steve can bring himself to get his ass up and walk his little paws elsewhere. 

They end up watching a movie. Something silly and romantic. The lights go off. Within moments, Bucky himself inches closer to Thor. Thor obviously notices but doesn't make a move. Not until Bucky turns those big, gorgeous eyes on him. So full of emotion. Very clear, now, what he's after. Thor smiles and opens his arms. Still leaving it up to Bucky. Bucky smiles in turn and curls into him. In the dark. Curled up together on the couch. No room for Steve. 

Steve just sits there on the floor staring up at them. Miserable. Desperate for just a little of Bucky’s attention. Thor and Bucky comment here and there on the movie. Laugh at the silly and ridiculous characters. Until Thor and Bucky start paying more attention to each other than the movie. They smile at each other. Keep staring into each others' eyes. Then start leaning closer for a kiss. 

And Steve just reacts. 

He jumps forward and chomps down. Some of it has to be puppy instincts. It’s not like he’d run up to Thor and try to slug the guy in the face if he saw him try to kiss Bucky out on the street if he was human, jealous as fuck or not. 

The worst part about it, other than reacting by biting with mighty puppy jaws for no logical reason, is that he hasn’t even clamped down on the fingers he’d been aiming for. 

“Ow!” Bucky yelps. “Cap! What the hell?”

‘ _Oh… oh, no, Bucky…’_ Steve whines and backs away. ‘ _I didn’t mean it…_ ’

“Uh oh,” Thor says. And of course, to make matters _even_ worse, “Did we make him jealous?”

“I don’t know.” Bucky’s voice is hard. Mad. Steve has never heard him mad before. Not ever at him, especially. “That wasn’t okay. Let’s go.”

He picks him up. Not rough, but not as gently as he usually does. He heads with him toward the kitchen. Steve knows why immediately. 

‘ _No, no_!’ Steve cries. ‘ _Oh, Bucky, I’m sorry, I’m_ sorry _! Don’t put me in there_!’ 

That’s where he goes though. Right into the cage and nothing Steve does makes a difference. Even if he whines or barks his little heart out for Bucky to come back there for him, he won’t. Steve bit him. Not _hard_. Not enough to break through skin or anything. He doesn’t dislike Thor _that_ much. He doesn’t even dislike him at all no matter how much he wishes he could. Thor is kind to Bucky. Thor makes him smile and laugh and sends him home glowing. All Steve was trying to do was get them to… to…

Ugh, Steve doesn’t know. 

This is wrong. 

He has no right interfering in Bucky’s love life. 

Bucky has every right to punish him, he thinks as he sat there sulking in his cage. Oh, dear gods, Steve needs to get hold of himself. _His_ cage. Okay with being punished. How did this get out of hand so quickly? 

By the time Thor leaves -- after the two of them spend a good chunk of time in the bedroom -- Bucky hasn’t come back to the kitchen once. Not even to check on Steve. Steve tries not to think about what went on in the bedroom without him in there. Really, he doesn’t want to know. 

After Bucky lets Thor out, he must straighten up a bit before finally coming into the kitchen, but when he does, he _still_ does look at Steve in his cage. He just goes right over to the sink to dump the empty beer bottles in there. Steve even thinks he might leave without sparing a passing glance at him, but right before leaving, Bucky sighs and pauses. 

He groans a little and turns back around and Steve hops back to his feet, tail already starting to act on its own. 

“All right,” Bucky says. “I guess I can’t be mad at you anymore. You ready to come out now?”

_Yes yes_!Steve digs at the corner of the cage, right where the door would open. _Lemme outta this thing, please, please,_ please _, Bucky_! _I’m sorry_! _I’ll never do it again_! 

Already undoing the latch, Bucky snickers and opens the door. Before he can even reach it, Steve bounds into his arms and starts licking his face. 

‘ _Bucky_!’ Steve yipped. ‘ _Bucky, Bucky, Bucky--’_ He backs away and sneezes. Hmph. ‘ _You smell like Thor…_ ’

“Oh, what?” Bucky asks. “You mad at me now?”

Steve sighs. Because, no. No, of course not. How in the world could he be mad at him. This is what he wants for him. Maybe it isn’t exactly what he’d planned, but Bucky regaining some semblance of a life -- of what he had before Hydra and Steve took everything from him -- is everything Steve should be giving to Bucky. 

Even if the price Steve has to pay is his very heart and soul in the process.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for not having this up last night as I said I would, I had a child Halloween crisis that I needed to tend to that went on all night long. But happy All Saints Day? Or All Souls Day? Happy Day of the Dead? Happy NanoWrimo for those doing it? Either way here's the last chapter. I hope you enjoy!

It happens just a few days after that. Nights, to be exact. This time, it’s Steve who wakes confused and disoriented, with only moonlight shining through the window. He groans. His head is pounding. His vision is blurry. There’s a ringing in his ear. 

Steve sits up at the foot of Bucky’s bed and smacks his lips together. Something is different. Wrong. He sniffs the air, trying to make sense of things, but that doesn’t get him much of anything. It just smells like a hot, summer’s night. Even his ears must be clogged. He’s not picking up much. 

“That’s weird.”

A hand claps over his mouth. A hand. _His_ hand. 

“Oh my god,” he whispers, looking over his body. “I’m… I’m me again…” 

This should be a great and wonderful and fantastic thing. It’s what he’s been hoping for for more than a month. Only there’s nothing good about this at all. Because Steve’s woken back in his normal, _human_ form, yes, but also very _naked_ and in Bucky’s bed. 

It’s not like he can just explain this away if Bucky wakes up and catches him there. Steve’s gotta get out of here without calling any attention to himself. He tries. 

Steve swings his legs over the end of the bed. He goes to stand so he can sneak out of Bucky’s place. And tumbles right to the floor with a grunt, his weight falling right out from under him and legs all tangled up in the end of the blanket. 

Everything happens fast. Chaotic. 

Light floods the room. 

Bucky flings himself out of the bed, hands at the ready for some counter-defense spell, Steve’s sure. 

“Who’s there?” Bucky asks voice sleep heavy, yet hard. “Show yourself!” 

Steve tries to throw up his own shield. Finds himself much too weak to do much of anything other than lie there trying to pick himself up. He does manage to pull the blankets back over his body. Maybe he can buy himself a little bit a time.

“Cap?” Bucky questions. No. No, shit, he’s coming closer, his hand bunching into the covers. “You okay, budd--what the _fuck_?!”

“I can explain!” Steve shouts. “I can!”

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?!”

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to… you took me in here, I swear!”

“Bullshit!” Silver and white sparks crackle out of his fingertips. “What the _fuck_ is going on?!”

Cringing away, Steve tries to convey innocence and no harm by holding out his palms. 

“Okay, okay, just don’t… please, don’t use that on me…” He flinches when Bucky’s magic soaks the air. “I’m… I’m the dog.”

“The dog…” Bucky’s eyes go wide. His fingers spread. Magic digs deeper. “What did you do to my dog?!”

“No, no, no! I _am_ the dog, I swear, I--oh, please, don’t do that again…” 

The more Bucky spreads his fingers, the more of his magic that spills into the air, the more it hurts. A burn that presses down upon his body. Steve hasn’t felt Bucky’s magic like this since the war and even then he didn’t feel it so powerfully. At least then, Steve had the advantage of shields and counterspells. This is Bucky’s magic at its best. Raw. Out. He’s even holding back. Not actually doing anything to Steve yet and it hurts. 

“Then you better start telling the truth.”

“I am! I am, I swear!”

Bucky scoffs. “So what you’re telling me is that _you’ve_ been my dog this whole time?”

“Yes! Yes, please, listen. About two months ago, you found a little golden retriever puppy on the street. You took him home and looked to see if someone was missing him but no one was and then you took him to that vet, Clint, right?” Bucky’s hands lower just a fraction, though, his face remains tight and hard. “Look, my name is--”

“I know what your name is.” 

Heart falling and stomach twisting, Steve’s eyes fill with tears. Bucky knows who he is. Which means he might remember him from the war and what he did. 

“I… I… Bucky, I’m…”

“Just _tell_ me what you’re _doing_ in here, Steve Rogers.”

It was an accident, Steve tells him. He came across a Book of Shadows in the park. Simply wanted to see who it belonged to and his eyes scanned a spell that turned him into a puppy and he was just trying to get to his friend for help when Bucky came along. 

There’s no doubt that Bucky believes him. When Steve’s finished, he just lowers himself to the side of the bed as though his whole life has been shattered. Everything is quiet for a few moments, all the magic fading from the air. 

“Would you leave,” Bucky whispers, pointing towards the door. “Please.” 

“I’m trying.” Really, he is. Shaky elbows keep him from pushing up any further than he can already get. Which isn’t much. Maybe halfway. “I’m… I dunno what’s--”

“Of course.” Bucky sighs and shakes his head. “You’re a caster. It wasn’t your spell.”

“I don’t…” Steve’s head is still spinning, but at least his vision is cleared. “I don’t understand.”

Instead of answering that outright, Bucky just asks who he’d been trying to get to when he found him that day out on the street. Steve assumes this means Wanda. 

“I’ll call her for you tomorrow,” Bucky promises. “In the meantime, you can change into these.”

They’re a little small, the sweats Bucky’s provided, but they’ll do. One simple finger poke later, Steve finds himself off the floor and on the couch in the living room. A strange sensation, that. Transportation magic. Steve’s never had it performed on him before. His entire body tingles with pins and needles. Almost the way his feet falls asleep without the numbness. 

“Try to rest,” Bucky grumbles from within his bedroom. “You’ll be gone by tomorrow.” 

The door slams then while Bucky himself is nowhere near it. Mad enough to slam doors with magic and never want to see him again.

 

The thought is daunting. Bucky wants him gone for good. With good reason, sure, but it still hurts. Steve can’t really blame Bucky for wanting to be rid of him. What he thought to be an act of kindness by taking in a puppy has turned into a nightmare. 

Steve tries to put himself in his shoes. He’s not so sure he’d be too happy to find out that the stray he took in turned out to be the person who made him a prisoner of war. He wishes he could explain better. Wishes he could tell Bucky how sorry he is. For everything. 

That was impossible just a little while ago when he was a puppy and now that he’s human again, he doubts very much that Bucky wants to hear it. Plus, his entire body is still tingling. So much that it’s hard to lay still. Which is horrible given that he’s still so weak and can’t actually move around the way he wants to. 

Steve is exhausted and yet so on edge he twitches--nose, fingers, toes. He nibbles his lips and tugs on his ear. Tosses and turns on the sofa which, up until now, had been most decidedly a lot more comfortable. He’s not sure how Bucky sleeps on this thing. It even squeaks every time he moves. 

“ _What_ are you doing?”

Steve nearly yelps when Bucky appears at side of the couch, all red-faced and clearly aggravated by the fact that Steve is unable to sit still. He can probably hear it every time Steve shifts. And that’s every two seconds. His irritation has his magic storming between his fingertips. Makes it hard to breathe. 

“I… I’m sorry.” Steve cringes from Bucky’s magic. He’s still too out of it to even attempt putting up some type of shield. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I’m just… I can’t…”

When Bucky sees Steve’s hand tremble he sighs and nods. Some of that magic dies. 

“You cast a spell on yourself,” he mumbles, mostly to himself but for Steve to hear. “Now your body’s reacting to its counter-effects. I’ll make you some lavender tea. It’ll help you sleep.” 

From where he’s sitting, Steve can watch Bucky in the kitchen. It’s painfully obvious that he’s doing everything he can to keep his back to him. As he fills the kettle. As he gets down a mug. As he gets down the tea leaves. 

While he waits for the water to boil, Bucky just stands with his palms flat against the counter. Eyes focused on the counter itself, Steve thinks. He’s unmoving, other than a tremble that passes through every few breaths. 

Steve doesn’t want them to part this way. With this uneasiness floating between them. They may technically be strangers still, but they’re also more than that. In some twisted, cosmic way, they’re friends. At least, Steve thinks so. He cares about Bucky. Maybe even loves him. He wants the very best for him and the thought of leaving him here in anguish tomorrow is just no good. 

“You can…” Steve clears his throat. He can’t get his voice very loud, but he knows Bucky hears him. “Maybe have a cup, too?”

For a second, all Bucky does is lift his head. He does nothing after that and Steve’s worried he’s gone and made things worse. Until the kettle begins to whistle and Bucky turns the flame down. Before pouring any water into the mug he’s gotten down for Steve he starts to reach up for another, pauses and then takes one down for himself. 

Steve curls his legs in so that Bucky has plenty of room to sit with him on the couch, but it makes no difference. Bucky takes the other chair in the room anyway. They’re quiet as they sip their tea. Good tea. Feels good running down Steve’s throat and pooling in his belly. The mug is nice and toasty against Steve’s hands. 

Over on the chair, Bucky has his legs tucked under him. He rests his cup of tea on the armrest and runs his finger over the brim between every few sips. He watches the steam.

“Bucky,” Steve whispers, hoping the steam might carry his voice. It must. Bucky lifts his eyes to meet his. “I just want to let you know I wasn’t, like, keeping tabs on you or anything.”

Bucky straightens up a little more. “What?”

“I mean, I didn’t even know where you were.” He takes a quick sip of tea. Burns the tip of his tongue. “After the trial. You disappeared. A-again, I wasn’t looking for you, I just… it was an accident.” 

“So you got lucky.” Bucky shrugs a shoulder. “Again.”

“I’m sorry.” Steve sighs. “I hope you know I did everything I could to defend you.”

“I know,” Bucky says into his tea. “I read your report.”

“You did?”

He nods. “You were more convinced of my innocence than I was. You did what you had to, though. In that moment. I can’t really say that I blame you.” 

They fall into another round of silence and this time neither of them have any steam left to give them topics to talk about. The tea Bucky’s made is exceptional, though. If it wouldn’t incur Peggy’s wrath, he might even dare say it’s better than hers. At least just as good. 

It thunders outside. A slight rumble off in the distance that’s a sure warning sign of Peggy daring him to do just so. Steve grins at the tea. Pats the cup and takes another sip. He can just make out the tea leaves at the bottom of the mug. Steve wonders what a clairvoyant would make of them.

“What was that?”

Steve looks up from the tea. “Oh, I… I didn’t say any--”

“Something made you smile,” Bucky says. “When you looked at your tea, you thought of something and then it thundered and you smiled.”

“Oh.” Steve finishes off what remains in his cup. Not much. The tea leaves still don’t tell him anything. “Just that you make good tea. It might rival Peggy’s.”

“Peggy?”

“My friend and business partner,” Steve tells him. “We own a tea and coffee shop. Started it after--”

Snapping his mouth shut, Steve’s heart drops to his stomach as he flings his gaze back up to Bucky’s. Probably not exactly the wises choice of conversation. Steve doubts very much that Bucky wants to hear about all of Steve’s successes after the war. Even if those successes came after drunken misery.

Oddly enough though, Bucky doesn’t appear offended. If anything, in fact, he looks confused as to what’s made Steve stop. He even prompts him to keep going. 

“After…?” He rolls his hand. “High school? College? The war? What?”

“Well. After I got sober.” 

Understanding, even sympathy, passes across Bucky’s face. It’s almost laughable. Sympathy from the Winter Soldier. 

“The war?” he questions. 

Steve knows what he means. More or less. 

“Yes and no.”

“More yes than no?”

It takes a few seconds for Steve to come up with the truth to that one. He shakes his head. 

“The trial.” 

“The trial?” Another question lines Bucky’s face. “What trial?”

When Steve doesn’t answer, because really, he can’t bring himself to say the words _your trial_ out loud, Bucky’s eyes drop. Steve can feel the real emotion behind the gesture. Too many of them.

“Why?” 

It comes out as an odd whimper. Childlike, almost. So many lost years and innocence wavering upon one simple word.

“There wasn’t enough time,” Steve answers Bucky’s real question. “A few more seconds and… and…” 

Bucky hasn’t taken his eyes off of him. “And _what_ , Captain Rogers?”

“I don’t know.” The tears that sting in Steve’s eyes are mirrored in Bucky’s. One slips down Bucky’s cheek. Steve breeches the space between them and brushes it away. “I would have taken you away. Away from that mess.”

“What would’ve happened to _your_ life?”

“I would’ve dealt with it.” 

“Why?” Bucky asks. “Why would I have been worth that to you?”

Steve uncurls his legs out from under him and reaches out to gently rest a hand over Bucky’s knee. To his delight, Bucky doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t even flinch. In fact, he only looks a little startled by the affectionate way Steve’s touched him. Not uncomfortable, at least, Steve doesn’t think. Just surprised. 

“The things you did all those years,” Steve murmurs, “they weren’t your fault. You had no choice.” 

“Yeah.” Bucky’s eyes, seeing something far away from the safety of this place, lift. “But I did it.”

A chill wafts between them. Something wrong and unnatural. Darkness. A little like that night Bucky had his nightmare. 

“They come to me still,” he whispers. “The people I killed. But then, you saw that, I guess.”

This apparition isn’t like the ones from that night. Not as strong. Not nearly as overwhelming. Only one. Magic gathers in the middle of Bucky’s palm. He expels it forward. It’s enough to push it back. 

The apparition might be gone but the emotion--the raw hatred and lingering fear--still floats through. Steve can’t see the harm trying to put a shield around them. He sifts through the air and pushes at the strings crossing through it. Something kind. Cinnamon, perhaps. 

Bucky’s eyes return from wherever they’d taken him to here with Steve. He looks around, clearly sensing the change in atmosphere. 

“Was that…”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” That hand is still on Bucky’s knee. Steve rubs his thumb in a circle. “Bucky, you paid for… whatever they wanted you to pay for. You had a… a life before. A family. A future. You can _still_ have that.” 

A wet, self-deprecating laugh. Then, “No. Don’t you see? Everything I already knew, what this just proved even more… the villain doesn’t get a happy ending.” 

A hard lump forms in Steve’s throat. He gathers Bucky’s hands in his and presses Bucky’s knuckles--metal and flesh--against his brow. 

“Then the hero of this story doesn’t either.” Steve shakes his head. “You don’t need to do this, Bucky. What about… what about Natasha? And the vet? Clint? A-a-and Thor!” It almost hurts to say, but it’s the truth. “He really likes you, Bucky. Talks to you every day. Makes you smile. He--”

Bucky abruptly pulls away from Steve. One hand claps over his mouth while his entire face turns red.

“Oh gods…” he whispers and then buries his face completely. “You… you _saw_ all of that! You saw me… you saw me naked! And you… _shit_ did you see me in my… _bedroom_?!”

Steve tries to swallow that hard lump. Doesn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon. It hurts. 

“Not that… last one.”

“Holy shit!” Bucky pulls away every more. “I don’t… Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think I can handle this. This is just too weird. You _literally_ saw me naked. I didn’t even get the chance to offer myself to open up and _be_ vulnerable and you’ve already seen every nook and cranny and…” Head shaking, Bucky stands and starts to leave. “I can’t take this.” 

Until he stands, Steve had no idea just how desperate he’s been for him to stay. A strange feeling, really. This deep-seated _need_ to have Bucky close. Whether that’s leftover from the spell or a real emotion that will take some time to fade Steve doesn’t know, but it’s strong and it takes over so completely that he’s lunging forward to clutch Bucky’s wrist. 

“No, please!” he begs. “Please, don’t leave me. I’m sorry, Bucky. Please, lemme make this right. Just tell me how and I’ll do it.”

Bucky scoffs a laugh. “How? Really, I’d love a suggestion. I lost most of my freedom outside already and now in my own home…” He buries his face in his palm again. “Ugh. This is so _humiliating_.” 

“Well, what if I told you one of… or _all_ of _my_ embarrassing stories?” Steve suggests.

“No.” Bucky shakes his head. “Don’t you see? That’d be you _telling_ me…”

Something else, though, must catch Bucky’s attention through that idea. He stops right smack in the middle of his sentence and lowers his arm. Turning his gaze on Steve, he looks at him as though very entertained by the new lightbulb that’s just gone off above his head. Mischief in his steel-blue eyes. 

“What?” Steve’s eyebrows pull in. He’s never seen this look on Bucky’s face. “What is it?”

“Would you… let me _see_?”

“What?”

“There’s a spell I can do that will let me see through your eyes,” he explains. “Shuri, uh, the Wakandan Princess taught me how to do it as a part of my recovery. Maybe if I…” He points to Steve. “It’ll even the playing field a bit.”

“You want to… go into my head?”

He knows it can be done. It’s something Wanda does to help people with nightmares and PTSD. Steve’s just never heard if it being done like this before. He’s never had it done to him either. 

“I… won’t if you don’t want me to,” Bucky says. “I’ll only do it with your consent.” 

“You can do it,” Steve tells him. “Whatever it takes to make this better.”

A grin pulls up on Bucky’s mouth as he sits down on the sofa next to Steve. Next to him, Steve tries to hold in a smile of his own. He can’t believe that Bucky’s gotten this close to him. Bucky checks again whether or not Steve is okay with this. Really drills home that doesn’t want to do if Steve’s not comfortable with it. 

Steve gives him a soft smile and says, “I trust you,” while rubbing circles into Bucky’s palm. 

Eyes glistening, Bucky lifts his right hand and slowly brings it toward Steve’s head. Once close enough, he gently taps two fingers twice against his temple. 

A spark. It simmers across Steve’s skin like a strange tingle. For a split second, Steve has the urge to flinch, but it passes so quickly he doesn’t even have the chance. 

Then, as if from a dream, an image appears between him and Bucky. It takes Steve a second to place what he’s looking at. Grass. Lots of it. Lots of tall, green grass everywhere he looks. Well, it’s probably not all that tall but for a newly human-turned-puppy it’s almost too tall to see over. This is Steve’s first few moments as a puppy.

Bucky touches the image and swipes his fingers to the left. Everything starts to change. Time quickly moving forward. As though he’s fastforwarding.

“What… what’re you doing?” Steve asks. “I thought you wanted to watch?”

“I said I’d only watch our time together. I haven’t found you yet.”

Smiling, Steve guides Bucky’s hand away. “It’s okay. It didn’t take you very long to find me.”

Like it was meant to be, Steve wants to say but doesn’t dare. Fate intervened twice. He’s not so sure there’s going to be a third. 

Bucky smiles when puppy-Steve is distracted by a squirrel and chases it up a tree. He laughs at his misfortune at having such an unusually high curb to struggle with and his fear of all the mean, loud cars. 

“Aw. Look how cute you were.”

“I beg your pardon,” Steve exclaims. “What do you mean how cute I _was_?”

Bucky chuckles and nearly shocks Steve with sheer amazement by leaning against him while they continue watching. Steve smiles so hard he’s dizzy. 

“You didn’t recognize me,” Bucky observes. “You _did_ , but you didn’t.” 

Steve shakes his head. “I knew I should’ve, but I couldn’t place you. You look different.”

“Good. I don’t wanna look like that person anymore.” 

You’re not that person anymore, Steve wants to say. You never were that person. They _made_ you that person. 

“Oh no,” Bucky says when they reach their time at the vet. “Oh, you poor thing, I took you to see Clint!”

“Yeah,” Steve grumbles. “And he gave me shots.”

Snickering, Bucky turns and laughs against Steve’s shoulder. He’s inched close enough to lean into him and stays that way. Steve doesn’t know why, but he’s certainly not going to argue. In the past month, even as a puppy, he knows he’s fallen in love with this man. 

Falling in love with him was easy. Rewatching his time together with him now, Steve’s not sure why he didn’t realize it sooner. The kind of guy rescues lost puppies from too high curbs. Who makes friends with the little old lady at the corner bodega that gives him free plums. Who’s shy around friendly people but allows kids to pet his dog. Who makes delicious tea for the guy who used to be his puppy. Who’s goofy and playful. Gets down on all fours to tease little balls of puppy with stuffed dragons and presses kisses to his head. Doesn’t know how to forgive himself for crimes that he committed by the hands someone else. 

“You think I have a nice ass?” Bucky asks.

Steve’s cheeks burn. “I mean… it’s okay.”

“You keep staring at it.” Bucky chuckles. “And you’ve thought it several times.” 

“Can you actually _listen_ to my thoughts?” 

Bucky shakes his head. “Not word for word. I just get a feel for them. The emotion behind them, really.” 

They’re approaching the night of Bucky’s nightmare. Bucky chooses to skip over that part, crinkling his nose right before it happens. He goes right the part where Natasha comes over instead. 

This was the night Steve realized who Bucky was which means Bucky’s showered in a wave of emotion. So many of them. He takes hold of Steve’s fingers. Wraps his whole hand around them and doesn’t move. There’re several thoughts growing in his eyes. So many that are left unspoken. Each of those leave a hole in Steve’s heart. Those silent moments while there’s shouting going on in Bucky’s mind. He’s probably the loudest person in the room while he sits there with his mouth closed. 

Until, of course, they watch Natasha place a hand on his knee and puppy-Steve bares little fangs.

“Aw, now you’re jealous, how cute.” 

Steve breathes out a sigh of relief. At least Bucky just takes his jealousy to be puppy related. Nothing more. 

“She scared me, too,” Steve whines. “She was mean to me. You were supposed to protect me.” 

Bucky cracks up and loops his arm with Steve’s. He even pets a hand over Steve’s head and Steve leans into the touch the same way he would have a few our ago. Still feels nice. 

“Is that so?” he coos. “My poor puppy. I’ll take good care of you. I promise.”

 _My_ poor puppy. Steve’ll take the _my_ part for as long as he can. He knows he’s running out of time. They’re running through the park now. Coming up on Thor and Loki. Soon enough, Bucky’ll go out on his date. Steve’s virtually demolished his puppy. He’s got Thor now. He doesn’t need Steve.

In fact, when Bucky puts together that Steve ran away from him that morning on purpose, he scoffs and pokes him in the side. The poke is accompanied by a finger wiggle and makes Steve squirm and snicker. 

No matter how he feels about it though, Steve will suck it up and be happy, because the second Thor’s image appears, Bucky’s face burns crimson. He bites back a huge smile when Thor grins his image approaching. All that matters is that Bucky’s happy. He deserves that. More than that, he should _know_ he deserves it. If Thor gives that to Bucky, well then, it’s the next best thing to Bucky loving Steve back. 

Steve, paying more attention to Bucky now than rather than watching with him, sighs through a smile when Bucky giggles. This time it’s because Steve’s pouting, he thinks. At being ignored while Bucky and Thor sit around drinking coffee at the park. 

He laughs again when Steve is frightened of the vacuum and once more when Steve panics at his absence. The amusement dies a little when Steve starts pulling apart couch cushion. Steve blushes at the dirty look he receives for that one. 

At first, Bucky doesn’t seem fazed by Steve’s jealousy as he and Thor start to see each other more and more. He takes it the same way as he took Steve’s reaction towards Natasha. Innocent. Puppy instincts. He snickers and playfully pats Steve’s head whenever puppy Steve jumps around just needing to know if he’s Bucky’s good boy. 

The more jealous Steve becomes, however, the more he acknowledges his own feelings for Bucky, the less amused by Steve’s puppy antics he is. He doesn’t react. He says nothing. He doesn’t move. When they come to the night of Steve’s most shameful behavior, Bucky doesn’t even let the images reach the bite. He swipes his hand through the projection and makes it vanish. 

For a while, he says nothing and Steve is much too nervous to break the silence. The quiet drums in Steve’s ears. It carves out a painful hole in his stomach. His throat swells several sizes. 

“Bucky…” he whispers when he can’t bear it any longer. “I…”

“Don’t,” he snaps. “Just don’t.” 

Bucky’s hand flies up. Whatever remained of Steve’s shield crumbles around them. He jerks away from Steve’s side, where he’d been almost this whole time. Steve finds himself cold and empty the second he’s gone. 

“You have… _feelings_ for me?” His voice is wet. Thick with tears. He isn’t crying though. “What’m I supposed to _do_ with that?”

“N-nothing,” Steve answers. He’s not sure if he should feel guilty for falling in love with Bucky, but right now, with Bucky’s eyes like daggers, he sure as hell does. “I didn’t mean--” 

“Because it’s ridiculous,” he growls. “The idea that I could… that I… me and _you_? After what you _did_ to me?” That stings, but then, Steve supposes it’s meant to. “And then… then _this_? How could that ever work? _Why_?” Bucky clenches his teeth _._ “Because you got those pretty eyes of yours? And those lips? A lawline that could probably cut glass? Or… or because you believed in me when no one else did? Or because… because after all this time…” Those tears do come on now. One by one falling like the spells cast between them. “...the safest I’ve ever felt is sitting here with you?”

Sure he heard that last bit wrong, Steve’s heart misses a beat. Safe? He makes Bucky feel safe? 

“Bucky.” Steve’s hand, trembling, gently rests at the side of Bucky’s face. “I don’t understand. What… what should I do for you? I’ll do it. Just tell me.” 

Leaning into the touch, Bucky sniffles a little and blinks. Long lashes over two misty pools of silver. 

“I don’t either. Just… would you put up another shield, please? I liked that.” 

“Of course. Yes. Yes, um.” Steve pushes his magic through the air. Weaves into the lines that run across the world something warm and peaceful. Charges it with a bit of fall flavor. “How’s that?”

“Is that apple pie?”

“Yes. I could change it if you want.” 

Bucky shakes his head. A smile quirks the side of his mouth. “No. I like it.”

Steve smiles in back. Soft. Tentative. “Bucky, do I really make you feel safe?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs a shoulder. “Well… yes. You do. I like being near you. Even when you were…” A puppy. Right. “I just felt like you’d do anything to keep me safe.” 

“I would have,” Steve whispers. “I still will, Bucky.”

“Then… then will you let me try something?” Bucky asks. “Just once?”

“Sure. Anything.”

It’s simple, really. Bucky asks him to hold perfectly still. For what, Steve’s not sure. At least, not at first. Not until Bucky begins to move closer. Slowly. Gradually. Then all at once. 

The fact that he’s about to kiss him doesn’t hit Steve until the very last second and he doesn’t think to kiss him back until their lips are actually pressed together. It’s thin-lipped and awkward at first. Bucky’s asked him to keep still and Steve’s not sure if that means now as well. 

But after a few seconds, he forgets to be awkward and realizes that this is Bucky kissing him. Against all odds and logic, Bucky, for some reason, wants to kiss him. Steve can’t waste time on useless emotions like that. 

He moves his hands. One on Bucky’s hip, the other at the nape of his neck. Bucky doesn’t push him away. Steve deepens the kiss. Opens his mouth and licks Bucky’s lips. Bucky parts his lips to invite Steve into his mouth. Steve kisses firmer. Takes a tighter grip on the back of Bucky’s neck. Bucky moans into his mouth. 

When they pull away, Bucky trembles, breathless and panting, his hands bunched in the sweats Steve’s wearing. His eyes are almost totally swallowed in black. 

“I don’t… remember the last time I was… kissed like that,” he says. Bucky touches his lips and gazes at Steve with a blazing fire in his eyes. “Do it again.” 

“Are you sure, Bucky?” Steve asks. His heart pounds against his ribs. “I don’t want to… to take advantage of… of…”

He gets no chance to finish that. Bucky lunges forward, catching Steve’s mouth again and pinning him back against the couch. The night unfurls around them with sudden sparks of new possibilities. With Bucky’s lips pressed to his, a fever boils inside of Steve. He’s been waiting for this moment for so long. He’s not sure he even realized it. 

Fingers curling into Bucky’s shirt, he pulls him in closer. Bucky groans and snaps his hips up into Steve’s groin. He whimpers when Steve begins trailing kisses down his neck. Across his throat. He even tries to kiss again when Steve moves back toward his mouth. Steve smiles and shakes his head. 

“Can I take your shirt off, Bucky?”

“You’re… you’re asking me?”

Steve tilts his head and nods. “Of course. I want you to feel good. I want you to tell me what you want.” 

“You can undress me,” Bucky whispers. “Just… go slow. I haven’t… I mean, Hydra used to make me… but--don’t do that.”

Losing his jaw, Steve releases a heavy breath and pulls his eyebrows together with a quick shake of his head. Confused. Angry, but confused. 

“Don’t do what?”

“Be angry. Or don’t pity me.” Bucky sighs. “I want this, Steve Rogers. With you. Please. Help me make new memories. Good ones.”

“Why me?” Steve asks. “Why would you want me?”

Bucky reaches up and grazes the side of Steve’s face. So soft. So tender. He takes hold of Steve’s fingers and brings them to his lips to kiss them.

“Because. Because you’ll keep me safe,” he says. “And I know you’ll be gentle.” 

Steve fights back a fresh round of tears. He leans down and presses a soft, sweet kiss to Bucky’s brow. Yes. Yes, he can do this for him. Of course he can. 

He starts by slowly undressing Bucky. Once he’s naked, staring back up at Steve, Bucky’s eyes glisten. A surrender of sorts. Trading fears for desire. He pulls Steve back into a kiss. 

Beneath him, Bucky shudders. Walls, Steve thinks, crumbling. His kisses are open-mouthed and full, pulling Steve closer and never quite having enough. Fires burning hot and bright, spilling heat between the both of them. 

“Where?” Steve whispers in Bucky’s ear. 

“Where?” Bucky, eyes just a little unfocused, repeats. “Where, what?”

“Where do you want me to touch you?”

“I don’t--”

“You need to tell me, Bucky,” Steve murmurs. “Tell me so I can make you feel good.”

Bucky looks rather confused right now. The idea of telling Steve where he should be touched rather than just letting him do as he pleases must feel so different for him. Steve hates that. Hates that Bucky’s still learning that his body belongs to him. Hates that someone had the audacity to take this sweet, adorable boy and use all his talents to do harm when Bucky would never hurt anyone.

Finally, after several moments, Bucky’s fingers brush over his collarbone. Steve grins and skims his fingers of that spot. Bucky shivers. Gasps. Tilts his head back and points to his throat. Steve’s lips feather along the soft columns, lowering just enough to touch his clavicle again. 

They go on like that. With Bucky pointing to a spot and Steve, slow and gentle and tender, touching, exploring, even teasing. Fingers run along the inside of his thighs. Lips circle around his belly button. The tip of his nose grazes his sides. 

He showers him in kisses. Every spot Steve can get to, he presses his lips against. This is something he takes his time doing, too. As he gets lower, Steve lets the tip of his nose skim around Bucky’s belly button before kissing it. He gently parts his legs and kisses up his inner thighs, but leaves his erection untouched. 

By the time Steve’s kissed nearly every part of him, Bucky’s trembling all over and dotted with perspiration. All his breaths are hitched and broken. There’re even tears dancing at the corners of his eyes. 

When Steve runs his hands up Bucky’s sides, gently kissing around the tight curls of above his crotch, Bucky releases a wet and broken sob. 

“Steve…” he whimpers. “Please. Touch me.” 

Steve nods and runs the tip of his finger from the base of Bucky’s cock to the head. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, Bucky groans. And Steve’s barely even touched him. 

“Do you have…” 

Bucky thrusts his empty hand into Steve’s. Their fingers lock and magic sizzles between them. Steve’s skin burns for just a second. When Bucky pulls his hand away, Steve’s holding a condom and a packet of lubrication. Cherry flavored. He chuckles. 

“You really are something, you know.” He leans in and kisses him. “Amazing.”

“Yes,” Bucky says. “One night stands used to love me. It was a great parlor trick.” 

Steve snorts with a roll of his eyes as he slowly bends Bucky’s leg at the knee. Once his fingers are all slicked up, he touches just the outside of Bucky's hole. This earns him the softest of whimpers. The kind he's certain Bucky tries as hard as he could to hold back but, to Steve's delight, just couldn't. 

He eases Bucky's legs open more. Stops just shy of strain. Before going on any further, he checks in with Bucky. Just to make sure it’s okay. And, boy, it must be since the second he even slows, Bucky’s eyes fill with impatience and he’s wiggling around like he can get Steve’s finger into his body on his own. 

A smirk teases the corners of Steve’s mouth. He rather likes Bucky this way. Wanting his touch. Trusting him. He pushes that finger in. Pulls a gasp from Bucky. Steve keeps doing that. Just that one finger, nice and slow. Until Bucky’s whining and trembling and sobbing for more. 

Steve obliges by adding another finger. When it’s all the way in, Bucky’s head drops back against the arm of the couch. He bites down on his lip and shudders. Normally, Steve might begin to speed things up a bit now. Not tonight. Not with Bucky.

Instead, he gradually pulls his fingers back out before slipping them back in even slower this time. Bucky claws at the couch, a bit of the fabric singeing under his fingertips. Smile on his face, Steve tries that again and gets more of the same. The slower he moves his hand, the gentler he is, the more crazed Bucky becomes. 

When Steve parts and hooks and drags his fingers just right, Bucky almost flies off the couch itself. Stars light up behind his eyes. Steve knows this because of the magic that transfers between them. He’d almost think to tell Bucky to settle down if he wasn’t enjoying this as much as he was. 

“St-Steve…” Bucky whimpers when he’s finally worked three fingers in. Bucky’s body is just dripping with sweat. He’s shivering from head to toe. “Please…”

“Tell me, Bucky,” Steve murmurs. “Tell me what you want.” 

“You. You, inside me. Please.”

Steve nods and slowly eases his hand away so he can rip open the condom and roll it on. With his clean hand, he gently brushes some hair behind Bucky’s ear. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers and watches a blush fill Bucky’s entire face. “I just thought I should say it out loud.”

Tears might dance along the tips of Bucky’s long lashes, it’s hard to tell since he reaches up and cups the side of Steve’s face just right to coax him down for a kiss. He keeps him there, too. Slow. Tender. Passion kindling in the very pit of Steve’s heart and soul. 

Bucky groans against Steve’s mouth when Steve starts to push in. Worried he may have hurt Bucky -- or caused him any discomfort whatsoever -- Steve jerks away. Though the noise sounded pleasant, he’s not taking any chances. 

“Are you okay?” 

His eyes are closed, but Bucky smiles. His hand, trembling, but lifting, rises to Steve’s face. His fingers graze Steve’s cheek. A sensation shoots through Steve’s entire body. Head to toe. Sheer pleasure. Not his own, he realizes. It’s not physical. That was Bucky’s. Bucky sharing with him how he’s making him feel. Steve never felt closer to anyone in his life. 

Eyes opening, Bucky looks up at Steve with an expression he’s never seen before. It takes a second for Steve to understand what it is. 

Openness. Unguarded. Bucky, even for just this one moment, has allowed Steve to see behind his pain, beyond his past, and right into the very depths of who he is. 

Steve stares down at him for just a moment. Takes in the glowing awe that gazes backup at him and feels himself born anew. 

The night spills between them. Heat and magic. Past and present. Everything colliding to form one glorious burst of stardust and diamonds ready to rain back down over them in some brand new chapter of Steve’s life. He doesn’t know if he’s ready for it. He does know he doesn’t care. 

Petting a hand over Bucky’s head, Steve’s not sure why he reaches up and brushes his fingers across his cheek. Until another tear drops from his cheek onto Bucky’s. 

“You’re crying,” Bucky whispers.

“I know,” he answers. “I’ll be all right.” 

A wet, shaky chuckle rattles Steve’s throat. He presses a deep kiss to Bucky’s brow and starts to move. A slow, rocking motion of their hips. It’s amazing. The sort of magic not even the most talented magic user could conjure. This brilliance shines for them and them alone. 

A hero and a villain. 

Two fates intertwined somewhere along the way to create something beautiful. 

***

The hand on his shoulder stirs Steve from his sleep. The voice calling his name wakes him. 

“Steve? Come on, hon, wake up.” 

A sleepy groan gets caught in Steve’s throat. He doesn’t quite want to move, but he’s no longer asleep. His eyes open. Confusion snares him in an ugly grip. 

“Wanda?”

She smiles. Kind and warm. The Wanda the Steve knows. 

“Heard you had quite an interesting adventure,” she says. “We were worried sick.”

“I-- yeah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-- where’s Bucky?”

Last Steve saw him, he was curled up in his arms. The way he wanted to be. The way he asked for. With Steve’s shield still around them. Steve had fallen asleep with him right there on the couch. 

Now, Steve is awake. With Wanda hovered over him and no Bucky in sight. Even his computer and phone are gone.

“I don’t know,” she says. “He called me an hour ago and let me know what happened. He told me the door would be open when I got here.”

“No. No, no, no.” Steve sits up and frantically looks around. “Bucky?! Bucky, where--”

“Steve.” Wanda slips a hand over his shoulder. “He’s not here. There’s nobody here but us.” 

“But then… the tea!” He can smell it. The unmistakable scent of peppermint wafting out of the kitchen. “If he’s not here then who’s making the tea?”

Nodding like she knows exactly what it is he’s referring to, Wanda swipes her hand through the air. Green flames dance along her fingertips. Everlasting fire. Those who can conjure it can control the temperature and the size and it’ll burn forever without spreading until the person who created it puts it out. 

“There’s a small pot inside,” she tells him. “I guess he was keeping it warm for you. Do you want a cup?”

“Yes. With him. When he gets back.”

“Steve--”

Steve shakes his head. “He’ll be back. He wouldn’t just leave.”

“He made peppermint tea for you, Steve,” Wanda says. “People usually drink that for…”

“I _know_ what they drink it for.”

Anxiety. Anxiety and stress. He knows this because he and Peggy serve it at their shop. People come in after a bad day at work or school and it’s one of their most popular items. 

When Wanda asks again if Steve wants a cup, he nods. After all, Bucky went through the trouble of making sure it would not only be prepared for him, but still nice and hot when he woke. Once he’s got his mug toasty and warm between his hands, peppermint mist swirling out from the top, Steve wonders why Wanda hasn’t gotten herself a glass as well. 

He asks her. She smiles and tells him there was really only enough for one person. 

“Maybe,” she says, “it’s his way of saying goodbye.”

Steve, tears swelling in his eyes, stares down at his tea. His present from Bucky. The last of some many before this one. Playing and teasing and allowing him to fall in love. Trusting him. 

“I didn’t get to say goodbye,” he murmurs. To Wanda, yes, but mostly to himself. “He’s just… gone.”

On the couch next to him, Wanda wraps an arm around his waist and hugs him close. 

“I know,” she whispers. “It’s gonna be okay, Steve.”

Not knowing how true that was, Steve just took another sip of his tea as Wanda explains to him just why they can’t stay here much longer. Sure, Steve might’ve turned back human, but that doesn’t mean the effects of the spell have completely worn off yet. 

“If you don’t want to spend the rest of your life dropping to your butt every time someone says sit or chasing squirrels…” 

Since neither of those nor the rest of the instincts he’s been trying to fight as a puppy are high on Steve’s priority list, he finishes his tea. Nothing in here is his. He has nothing to pack. Nothing to take. All he has to do is simply leave. 

Only he can’t. Not yet. 

Steve finds a piece of paper and a pen. Asks Wanda to wait for him outside so he can do this one last thing. He brings the pen down to the paper and starts writing. 

_My Dearest Bucky..._

***

Twelve days. 

Twelve letters sent.

Twelve days of silence. 

Unlucky day number thirteen has been filled with nothing but gray skies and rain. Today must be some sort of omen or something. It’s a Friday. The thirteenth. On the thirteenth day that Steve is counting down. Really, Steve should’ve just stayed in bed.

He knows the signs, too. He spilled salt--but he tossed it over his right shoulder, so he thought he was in the clear. Still, when he got into work first thing this morning, a broom fell over. And then, of course, when Steve went to go outside to sign for the delivery, his umbrella popped open before he got outside. 

That’s when he decided to just go into the back and just sit down for a while. Where he’s been ever since. Forgetting about work. Forgetting about the rest of the world. Remembering the one part of his life he wishes he could get back more than anything. 

Steve’s beginning to lose hope that Bucky’ll ever answer him, but that doesn’t stop him from sitting in the office writing letter number thirteen. It costs more to have the post office teleport them right to Bucky’s place on the same day, but Steve’s paid the fee every day so that every day Bucky gets a letter. 

Since returning to his life, Steve met with Wanda every day as well. He’s found it necessary in order to rid himself of magical puppy instincts that he’d much rather not live with for the rest of his life. 

“Sit, Steve,” Wanda said as recently as day ten. 

Steve, who had no chair readily available, just dropped to the floor anyway. He hadn’t even looked around for a place to place his butt. Hadn’t questioned Wanda’s instructions. Hadn’t given it a second thought.

Not until he was on the floor and glancing around while Wanda held back a small chuckle. 

“Oh.” Steve sighed. “You didn’t really mean for me to do that, did you?”

“No,” she said. “But that’s all right. You’re getting better.” Wanda pat the big, oversized armchair privy only to those who got to see behind the beaded doorway of her place. “Come here. Let’s see what we can do.” 

Picking himself off the floor, Steve plopped down in the chair with something of a huff. As much as he wanted to, he didn’t slouch. Steve needed to sit up straight for this. For Wanda to place her hands at the sides of his head and let her warm, peaceful magic to sink in and do its work. 

Steve had to admit, he enjoyed their sessions together. The magic a witch like Wanda used was comforting. A cup of tea after a long, hard day. 

“Tea…” Steve whispered, the memory sewed onto his heart like a hastily placed patch.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Steve shook his head. “Any idea how much longer this might take?”

“You did quite a number on yourself, Steve,” Wanda said. “I’m surprised it only took two months to wear off.” 

Two months. Seemed so much longer to Steve. A lot longer to his friends who’d been looking for him, too. He’d been right that first day. After they’d checked his bank and credit card activity and realized he hadn’t _gone_ anywhere, one of their first fears had been that he’d fallen off the wagon. 

They started checking bars. The local places. Places Steve used to frequent. Had gotten himself kicked out of quite often for getting into fights with other patrons. Usually, drunken brawls because someone said something so outrageously stupid that Steve just couldn’t keep his own mouth shut. 

When they got no luck there, they started checking rehab facilities. Just in case. 

Local authorities were involved from the very beginning, of course. The problems just came from the fact that everyone was looking for a six foot, two-hundred-pound blonde haired, blue eyed caster. Not a little, golden retriever puppy. 

It almost hurts that his friends had to jump to such a conclusion, but then, Steve’s the one who tried to drink his problems away. Then got himself sober and ended up as a puppy. In the care of the Winter Soldier. The man Steve got captured and stripped away of everything and who thinks of himself as a villain and undeserving of any sort of second chance at a life. Who Steve is head over heels, unconditionally, and irrevocably in love with. 

“Are you okay, Steve?” Wanda asked that day. Placed a soothing hand at the back of his neck. “You’re tenser than usual.”

 _Oh, nothing_ , Steve thought _. Just completely in love with someone who probably hates me and won’t speak to me._

“No, nothing,” he lied. “I’m fine.”

 _I’m fine_.

It’s become Steve’s mantra these past two weeks. He might as well have it tattooed over his forehead just so he doesn’t have to say it any longer. He wonders if there’s some magical way to do that. There probably is. Even if it’s only temporary. 

The words are a lie, of course. A lie he’s trying to get himself to really believe because the truth hurts so badly. 

“Another one?”

Peggy’s voice appears as if out of a dream as Steve finishes this most recent letter. He starts just a bit in his seat to look at her with something of a sheepish smile. The start of one anyway. It never fully makes it. Steve starts to put the letter for Bucky in an envelope. 

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “I just…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, darling,” she says as she comes into the office all the way and sits across from him. “Although I do wish you’d stop saying that you were fine all the time. You’re certainly not fine.” 

Steve runs his thumb along the outside of the envelope. All addressed and stamped and ready to go. 

“What’m I supposed to do, Peg?” he asks. “Tell them the truth?”

“It does seem like a viable option.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I can’t tell them that. He wants his privacy. I already took his life away from him once.”

“ _You_ didn’t do that,” Peggy points out. “Hydra did. You can’t hold yourself responsible for that.” She takes hold of his hand the way she did when they dated. “You have to forgive yourself, Steve.”

A rush of tears burn behind Steve’s eyes. He didn’t know how hard this would be. And he misses Bucky. 

“I don’t know how.”

“Well,” Peggy says, rising to her feet. She presses a soft kiss to his brow. “You can start by not being so dramatic.” A smile quirks up on the side of Steve’s mouth. “And you can finish by doing the dishes in the sink.” 

That sees a laugh bubbling through Steve’s chest. It’s wet and accompanied by a few escaping tears that Peggy catches and wipes away, but it feels good. The laugh is real. Right. The first one he can remember in some time. 

Right before he closes the envelope, Steve takes a flyer for their All Hallow’s Eve party. Several of his previous letters have made mention of it. Their flyers have not been sent out yet. This will be the first. Steve is sure to write that. Not that he’s expecting it to make any sort of difference but. Well. He’s got to try. 

The day storms on. 

Harder. 

Thunder and lightning. 

By mid-afternoon there are some flood warnings. 

Those who make it into the store are soaked to the bone and dripping. Cold and looking for a place to feel warm and safe. They need to dry off, even if it’s only on their lunch break. They’ve come to the right place. 

Steve loves his and Peggy’s place. That old, warm feel to it. Hardwood floors covered in a few rugs. Fireplaces that throw off heat and make it glow. Wooden chandeliers sometimes lit with fire rather than electricity. Cozy tables and chairs of mismatch sizes for all different parties. 

Between Steve’s shields and Peggy’s brews, anyone who comes in usually says they feel better in minutes. Steve always feels proud whenever anyone compliments them in such a way. 

Today is definitely a day for it. 

So while they go through periods where they’re pretty much no one there -- a person or two who gets blown through the door maybe or a regular who braved the streets for their favorite cup of tea -- they also go through an hour or two where they’re jammed packed. A line damn near out the door. When even Steve and Peggy need to be behind the counter helping by the register. Steve doesn’t mind. He likes making drinks. Days like today keep his ever running mind busy.

Things are just starting to die down after another busy run when someone calls for his attention as he’s cleaning a few mugs. 

“Excuse me.” 

“Just a sec,” he says as he places the mug back on the shelf and turns around. “How can help-- oh…” Oh _shit_.

Whatever he’s supposed to say next completely disappears from his mind as Steve comes face-to-face with one very pointed expression coming from Natasha Romanov. Behind her, he’s not receiving a much kinder expression from Clint Barton. 

“Um… I…” Steve tries to get out some sort of declarative statement. “Uh…”

“Take the hint, Steve Rogers,” Natasha growls and tosses something onto the counter. “ _Leave him alone_.” 

“I…” Steve’s hand trembles as he reaches for what she’s dropped on the counter. All of his letters. Wrapped in twine. All unopened. His voice cracks. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“Fine,” Clint says. “Then let him go.” 

Natasha turns then, swirling away with her hair trying to keep up with her movements. Clint keeps an eye on Steve a moment longer. Almost as if assessing him even more before finally making his move and following Natasha out. 

“Please!” Steve calls after them. “Please, tell him I’m sorry! Please!” 

Neither of them answer. 

One part of Steve’s heart -- the part meant only for him -- has just been wrenched from his body. He’s not even sure how he’s still standing. How he’s able to breathe when his heart’s been literally removed and given to someone else who doesn’t want it. Maybe the rest of his body hasn’t gotten the message yet. 

The other part of his heart -- the part that wants good things for other people -- beats strongly for the fact that even after all that’s happened, Bucky still has at least two good people in his life that will look out for him. That, at least, means something. No amount of heartache can take that away. 

“Steven?”

Tear and all, Steve turns to see Peggy standing at the other end of the counter. She comes closer. Slowly.

“Darling, why don’t you…” She eases a hand across his shoulder. “Why don’t you take a break?”

He nods. Maybe he nods. Steve can’t even be sure. All he knows is that somehow he ends up outside walking down the block. He walks aimlessly. No jacket. No umbrella. No shield. Which would explain the shivering. 

It’s only when he stops that he realizes where he’s taken himself. Steve closes his eyes with his hand clenched around the doorknob. He shakes his head and jerks away from the door. Steve hurries to pull out his phone so he can call his sponsor. 

“Hey!” he exclaims when he picks up the call. “Waddup, dawg? Heh. Get it? Dog? Cause you were a--”

“Tony?”

All traces of teasing disappear the second Tony hears his voice. “What’s the matter, Steve? What’s wrong? Where are you?”

“Um. I’m…” Steve lowers his head in shame. “I’m in front of the bar. But I didn’t go in!” he hurries to say. “I’m just… I’m having a bad day, Tony, I need your help.” 

“All right, it’s okay.” Sounds like Tony’s moving around. Maybe putting shoes on or something. “Go to the corner.” Something twists around like lead in Steve’s stomach. Tony doesn’t even have to ask which bar. “I’ll be there as soon as possible. Okay? Okay, Steve? You’re gonna be okay, just go to the corner.”

“Mhm.” Steve wipes his eyes. “Thank you, Tony.” 

Doing as Tony’s instructed and going to the corner, Steve sits down on the curb even as the downpour comes on. It’s almost worth it. The rain. Refreshing. Cleansing. As Steve looks up at the sky and lets it all wash over him. 

Maybe Peggy’s right. 

If Steve does need to let Bucky go, if Steve needs to move on with his life, then maybe all of that starts with forgiveness. 

***

There’s a table filled with All Hallow’s Eve gifts. A lot of these gifts are canine related courtesy of Steve’s friends. Sam gave him a package of dog treats -- Steve has _not_ let anyone know that the red ones taste the best and the green ones aren’t very good at all and that he _still_ knows that. Tony got him a pair of matching dishes with his name engraved on them. They’re actually quite nice. Even Wanda got in on the joke and got him a freaking collar. At least no one got him a leash. 

The night, as usual, has been wonderful. Good friends. Friends as good as family. Good food. Customs. Traditional chanting. Candies and food placed outside in the hopes that evil spirits would leave the spirits of their past loved ones alone on the one night of the year the veil between the living and the dead is so thin. Everyone carved their own turnip or rutabaga or pumpkin and placed within it burning embers to ward off evil apparitions. ‘

It’s been a good way to start off the new year. 

Steve can’t say the past two weeks have been particularly wonderful, but they’ve been an improvement. 

No more obsessing over letters. No more running close calls. No more puppy instinct either. Well, that last one he’s mostly got down. 

He can’t say that he doesn’t miss Bucky anymore, because he does. Every damn day.

“Did you have fun tonight?”

Peggy is piling up some dishes to bring to the kitchen while Steve stands back there loading them into the washer. 

“I did,” he answers. “I think this is what I needed. A good reminder.” 

“A reminder, huh?”

“Yeah.” He grins at her as he takes this pile. “I still have a lot of people who love me.”

“That you do, Steve.” Peggy kisses his cheek. “And you always will.” 

The bells above the front door jingle. Peggy sighs and comments that she must’ve forgotten to lock up after everyone left. 

“I’ll take care of it,” she says and goes to do just that. “I’m sorry,” Steve hears her tell them. “You missed all the festivities, we’re just closing up. I’d be happy to get you something to go, though, if you’d like.” 

“Um. Actually… uh… I was just wondering…” Steve’s heart stops. “If Steve was here?”

“Oh.” Steve can hear the surprise in Peggy’s voice, but he can’t bring himself to move. “Oh, yes. Yes, he’s just in the back. Steve? Steve, there’s someone here for you.”

It takes Steve another agonizing moment to finally tear away from the kitchen and bring himself out there. Out there to where he can’t even believe it, but there he is. Bucky is standing there. Right in the middle of Steggy’s Cafe. 

“B-Bucky?”

Bucky lifts his fingers in a shy wave. “Hi, Steve.” 

He looks different. Good different. Even better than when he first started seeing Thor. Fully shaved. Hair just long enough to pull back into that cute little bun of his. Clean clothes. With him, is a black labrador wearing a service dog vest and collar. The dog stands right at his side and doesn’t move. 

“What-- what’re doing here?” Steve asks. “I- I mean… hi.” 

A smile touches Bucky’s lips. “Can we talk?”

“Sure! Of course, we can. Um…” Steve gestures to one of the cleaned tables. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Oh, sure.” Bucky nods. “Anything you have is fine.”

Steve, still shocked that Bucky Barnes is in his cafe, comes back over with two glasses of pumpkin juice, tonight’s specialty. Whipped cream and cinnamon topped. 

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah.” Bucky takes it with a smile. “This is great.” He pets a hand over the dog. “Sit, Sarge.” 

They sit there at the table for several minutes, sipping their pumpkin juice, without saying a word. Bucky swipes his finger through the whipped cream a few times. Steve moves his straw up and down, even takes it out and sucks the juice out from the bottom. But neither of them say anything.

Steve honestly can’t imagine what he’s doing here. The last he heard anything from him, Natasha and Clint had come on his behalf to tell Steve to stay out of his life. 

“No.”

In the middle of taking a sip of his drink, Steve glances up at Bucky, confused. His eyebrows pull in. He shakes his head. 

He swallows that bit and asks, “What?” as he smacks his lips together.

“That’s not what-- I mean, I didn’t ask them to tell you to stay out of my life,” Bucky says. “Natasha and Clint. They’re a little… over-protective. Especially after what happened. But I just wanted some space. Time to think. I didn’t ask them to be so aggressive.” 

That other half of his heart, which ripped away from him those few weeks ago, pulls back to make it complete again. 

“So you… didn’t… _never_ want to see me again?”

Bucky shakes his head. “No. I mean… I’ve just been confused. Mostly. I was just trying to figure things out.” Bucky gives him one of those pretty smiles. “Besides, after those beautiful letters, how could I not want to see you? At least _once_?”

“Letters?” Steve blinks. He still has them all in his drawer, but they’re all still sealed. “How did you… they’re all unopened?”

That smile of Bucky’s turns very sheepish. “Oh. I don’t… really have to open them.” 

“Mm.” Steve buries his face in his palms. “You really are incredible, you know.” 

“You’re better. You did _catch_ me.” Bucky leans across the table and taps Steve’s hand. “Can I show you something, Steve Rogers?” 

“Anything,” Steve whispers. “Of course.” 

Bucky’s eyes glisten in tonight’s moonlight, shining in through the ceiling skylights. Without taking his eyes off of Steve, he parts his hands. Within them, a young woman appears. She looks a little like Bucky. Soft brown hair. Pale skin. Those same, steel blue eyes. 

“My sister,” Bucky murmurs. “Rebecca. The day I… the day I met her again.”

Steve gasps with a smile. “You… you reconnected with your sister?”

Nibbling on his lip, Bucky nods. “Just a little while after you left. We spent today together, too.”

“Bucky, that’s… that’s great!”

He folds in that smile and tucks his chin in. Bucky fiddles with his fingers and only looks up again when the dog nudges his side. 

“Oh. Um…” He smiles at the dog. “This is Sarge. She’s my… new dog? I guess? Or my, well, she’s my service dog. An actual dog. Not a--”

“Not a person turned into a dog?”

Bucky laughs. 

“Exactly. I guess.” He groans and rubs his eyes. “I still can’t believe this happened. I mean… I _know_ this happened, but I still can’t believe…” Bucky shakes his head. “Never mind.”

Steve, who very much doesn’t want to cause Bucky any further discomfort, pulls his hands off the table and into his lap. 

“Well.” He clears his throat. “How’s… um… Thor?”

The words burn his throat. Stupid question, really. Especially when Bucky turns an almost disbelieving expression on him. As though he can’t really believe he’s brought that topic up. 

“He’s good,” he answers anyway. “He and Loki came in second place at the ultimate Frisbee competition last month.”

“Oh, that’s…” Steve swallows that rock in his throat. “That’s good.” 

“Yeah.” Bucky drums his fingers over the table. “I’m going to see the play they’re doing next week. _Romeo and Juliet_. Loki is Juliet, he’s _very_ excited, but don’t let him know you know that.” Bucky laughs. “He’s actually been helping me a lot with magic. And Thor’s…” He blushes. “I mean, he’s been great, really. Very supportive through all of this. Even when he found out…” Bucky just flicks his gaze up. Doesn’t say anything else. “Well…”

“Yeah. That Captain was…” He nods. “Did you… tell him about that… night?”

“We weren’t exclusive.” Bucky shrugs. “But I let him know again that I might be seeing other people. He didn’t need to know the details.”

“Wow. Wow, Bucky, I’m… I’m really happy for you.” 

“Thanks.” He clears his throat. “Um, so I was wondering… would you want to come with me?”

“Go with you where?”

“To see Thor and Loki’s play?”

That rock in Steve’s throat falls and lands in his belly. On one hand, Bucky is reaching out and asking him to do something. On the other, he asking him to do something that involves his boyfriend. Steve’s all about the martyrdom on any other day, but he might have to draw a limit somewhere.

“You… want me to come with you…” Steve fakes a cough just so he can get this out. “To see your boyfriend’s play?”

Bucky gives him a patient smile. He shakes his head. “No. I want you to come with me and Thor’s girlfriend to see my friend’s play.”

“You want--” Steve shakes his head. “Wait, what?”

That patient smile turns to a giggle and Steve’s forgotten just how much he loves him. How adorable he sounds. Looks. Is.

“Thor and I aren’t dating, Steve. He’s not my boyfriend.”

“O-oh. So… wait you…”

“I want you, Steve. Or I… I don’t know, I want to see what it’s like to be with _you_ on two legs and without floppy ears and fur? I know I liked you as a puppy. And I know _you_ were willing to pretend to be a puppy longer for me so that I could be happy.” He holds his hands out and waits. Steve tentatively puts his back in Bucky’s. “Maybe you’d be willing to give me the chance to fall in love with the man who rescued me?”

A shudder runs through Bucky’s body as Steve stands with him. Steve doesn’t hesitate this time. He can’t as he frames Bucky’s face within his hands, a shield forming around them and blocking the rest of the world away.

“Bucky…” Steve whispers, trying and already failing to keep his head up. “You don’t understand. It’s… it’s _you_ who rescued _me_.”

“Then, Steve,” Bucky says. “Does this mean, maybe, I can be a hero?”

Steve, eyes misty and mouth curved up, tilts his head just slightly and presses his lips to Bucky’s. Kissing him feels like home. Having Bucky kiss back feels like reuniting with the rest of his soul. 

Just a hero and a villain. 

Two fates intertwined somewhere along the way to create something beautiful. 

***** One Year Later *****

Steggy’s is packed, as usual. On some days, Bucky will work in the back, coming up with new recipes with Peggy. She's grudgingly accepted that his talent for tea making is almost as good as her alchemy. 

Their All Hallow’s Eve bash is always filled with all their best friends. This year, they have even more guests. This year comes with Natasha and Clint -- who warmed up to Steve once he and Bucky officially started dating. 

“I guess I can’t give you too much grief,” Clint had said. “I did stick a thermometer up your--”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Steve had waved that one off. “We got it.”

“No, no.” Of course, Sam would be interested in that one. “I wanna hear this story. What happened with Steve at the vet? We can barely get him to the doctors!”

“Well,” Clint laughed, “I did bribe him with doggie treats.” 

That made Sam crack-up so hard that he pinched both of Steve’s cheeks and tease that next time he was gonna buy a bag of goodies for the next time he wants to get Steve to do something for him. 

As for Natasha, she was only won over once she was sure Steve was really on the mark. 

“I had my suspicions,” she remarked. “But your shields were good.”

“I just… I wasn’t ready to leave. Bucky needed me.” 

“Mm.” She shrugged. “Then I suppose you suffered enough. Both physical and emotional. You’re a good guy, Steve Rogers.” 

Thor is here with his girlfriend, Jane, and his brother, Loki. Strangely enough, Thor and Steve have actually hit it off really well. Well, after Thor got over the whole, you-were-really-the-guy-I-was-seeing’s-puppy thing. Other than that, they’re pretty cool with each other. 

Bucky’s sister, Rebecca’s been by. She’s as sweet as can be and actually is the one person who doesn’t give Steve grief over what happened. She claims it’s what’s pushed Bucky to do what needed for himself. Bucky only shrugs. He sees his therapists. He has Sarge. He takes his medications. Nowadays, Bucky lives in the sunshine. He smiles and laughs. Steve takes him dancing and doesn't get yelled at for stepping on his feet. 

He has bad days of course, who doesn't? Bucky has his days where he doesn't want to get out of bed or can't shower for a few or needs Sarge to help him through panic attacks. She sometimes helps him cast incantations to keep apparitions at bay. Just like some days, Steve needs to go to meetings or needs to disappear with Tony. And then other days they need just each other.

Neither a hero nor a villain. 

Two lost souls who found each other when they needed each other most.

Of course, everyone, Bucky mostly, loves teasing Steve over what happened. Bucky'll pet a hand over his head. Fingers under his chin. Every now and then when Steve is brushing his hair or shaving, his reflection will suddenly have two furry ears or a wet nose. An illusion thanks to lessons with Loki. Steve can easily get rid of them. One touch of the mirror and they shatter. Still.

"Bucky!" Steve'll shout because it's always fun to hear the barrel of giggles that follows

"What's the matter?" Bucky's arms usually wrap around him from behind. "I thought you liked being my little puppy."

"Grr," Steve pretends to growl. "If you want me to be your puppy, you get all that comes with it.

"Fangs and all?"

"Especially the fangs."

"Mm." Bucky squeezes his butt. "Aren't you a feisty puppy?"

Tonight’s been wonderful. The best All Hallow’s Eve in years. Steve and Bucky have carved turnips together and roasted pumpkin seeds and burned sage and lit candles for loved ones. They’ve danced and chanted and kissed and laughed. 

Now, they’re sharing a bit of alone time in the corner while others open presents together around the main table in the middle of the cafe. 

“I have something for you, my puppy love,” Bucky murmurs and kisses him under the orange lights of pumpkin roots. 

Steve grins, happily never outgrowing the teasing. “Oh, you do, do you?”

Sarge, asleep in the corner, pops her head up when she sees Bucky moving around. Once she’s sure nothing is wrong, she puts her head back down. No panic, no reason to act. 

“I do.” Bucky pulls out a small velvet box. “For you.”

Heart swelling several sizes, Steve’s hand trembles. He takes hold of it and looks back at Bucky who watches him almost nervously. Mostly excited. Those eyes growing. Sparkling. Magic crackling. Fireworks sparking in all different colors around them. 

“Oh gods,” Steve says. 

Bucky nods. “I know…”

Steve opens the latch. Inside the box is a small metal jewel. A little puppy license in the shape of a heart. Inscribed on it are the words _Will you marry me?_

“Steve, I know I--”

“Bucky!” Steve exclaims. Box in hand he flings his arms around Bucky and hugs him tight. “Wait! You don’t understand”

“Wait?” Bucky laughs. “Is that a no? A yes? Maybe?”

“Oh, yes, Bucky! Yes today; yes _everyday_. I love you, Bucky. Just… wait a second! 

“I love you, too, Steve?”

He might be running around like a chicken without a head, but Steve is just too excited. For one, Bucky just proposed. _Proposed_. Bucky just asked him to _marry_ him. Steve can’t believe. He runs to grab the gift he’s gotten for Bucky and hurries back with it. It’s just a little bigger than the box that held the license Bucky got for him. Longer.

Bucky takes it from him, probably a little confused by Steve’s animated excitement. But Steve just simply can’t get a grip. He’s damn near jumping up and down trying to get him to rip the paper off and open the box as fast as he can. When he does, Bucky almost shrieks himself. With understanding.

What Steve’s done is almost the opposite as what Bucky’s done. While Bucky’s gotten Steve a license with the words _Will you marry me_ on it, Steve’s gotten Bucky a collar with the words _Will you marry me_ sewn into it. 

They’ve both decided to surprise each other with proposals on the exact same day in the same manner. Steve couldn’t be more in love as Bucky throws himself into his arms.

“Gods I love you, Bucky Barnes,” Steve murmurs through kisses. “So much. And I’m going to marry you and love you every day for the rest of my life.” 

“Is that a promise, Steve Rogers?”

Oh, it’s a promise all right.

Binding.

Unbreakable.

Steve seals that promise to Bucky with a kiss on All Hallow’s Eve. Born out of puppy love. And forged in magic. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to check me out on tumblr for more stucky and marvel fun at [thebestpersonherelovesbucky](http://thebestpersonherelovesbucky.tumblr.com/)


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